


Allegedly

by 78424325



Series: Instagram Emblem [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, F/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2019-10-11 15:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 325,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17449703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/78424325/pseuds/78424325
Summary: I don't think he's even human! Probably a lion demon. Or literal god of war getting kicked out of the heavens. ... Right? (Crap, he is sweet too!)





	1. What Did I Do to Deserve You

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I'd like to apologize for the length. I totally did not plan it to be /this/ long, but I feel like if I ended it quicker than I planned it to be, some things would remain unresolved.
> 
> This one actually has been rotting in my drafts for months. I wrote it around the time I started updating Drinking the Mystletainn. Originally planned to have this on a solo chapter like what I did on the second Instagram Emblem installation with Innes and Vanessa, but since it got long(er...) than I planned, I guess posting it as a multi-chapter story will be more convenient for the readers. I hardly ever write in first-person view, so I thought, well... why not try turning it into one. Lene is a fun complex character to write and I can only hope to do her justice ;-;
> 
> I continued writing this one as a mean to cope. Recently lost a kitty so unexpectedly, so... eh, without the details, let's just say keeping myself writing this one helps numbing the pain. 
> 
> My sincere gratitude for anyone deciding to drop by and read!~ And please hug all your pets for me :)

I probably shouldn’t be here.

It’s dark and I’m not familiar with this place. I mean, it’s not like I can just easily jump everywhere I like. First thing first, I don’t even have a car because I don’t have the money to buy one. That makes me a public transportation commuter, which brings us to the second part—frankly, public transportation at this part of the city sucks.

I did hear that the fancier areas where the skyscrapers are do have better lines, though. At least I can still ride buses and take trains from where I live, so I guess it’s not so bad so far. After all it’s not that I’m deliberately being here, at this hour, just because I love me some challenges called night walk and whistling contest, you know?

And by whistling contest, I should have said catcalling. Now that I’m dragging my tired-ass feet back to the station where I take my train as usual, I’m seriously contemplating to try turning that into a whistling contest. If the next man I encounter along the way is to catcall me, I’ll catcall him back. Or… gods be damned and roasted and cooked, I’ll do it in the tune of Yankee Doodle. At least if he does not like it, he’ll learn that he’s being a creepy asshole—that, and catcalling sucks.

Glancing at my rose gold watch (don’t laugh at the color, darn it, let a girl have some nice, _cute_ things!), it indeed says that the night is not young anymore. It’s merely some minutes to eleven… and I’ll say this again—PM—mind you, yet here I am walking on the earth like I barely survived a zombie apocalypse.

… By the way, who says that in this day and age? The night is not ‘young’? Another reason why you should not listen to those anti-aging cream commercials! Nights are lovely. Wine gets better with age. And a woman has to look the same like she did three decades ago? What do you think we are, a Kaspersky anti virus program with lifetime guarantee?

Oooh, boy. My close friends used to say I’ve got a temper—the kind of fire in me that is a giant middle finger spelt as a poetry. I suppose they are right. I like it reasonable, so often times it ruffles me when people deliberately create a mess and drag others unwillingly into it. That, and condescending men. Creepy men. Nice-guy men. Men.

If Larcei—one of my best friends—hears this one, she’ll probably smirk and make a finger-gun gesture at me. After all, it’s thanks to her that I got to know this heavenly cake shop at the bustling business area called the Master Cakes and ooohmigosh, I have to tell you, it’s heavenly, pearly-gates heaven with an H anyone liking pastries and cakes will ever dream of. This cake shop is extraordinary by taste, yet still boasts a comfortable, warm and homey feeling. Most importantly, I can afford it.

… Didn’t I tell you that I’m poor? No? Alright then—I’m poor. I’m not dirt-poor kind of poor, thankfully, but I’m struggling here and there to pay for the basics. If I didn’t study at Jugdral-U on a scholarship… haha, hold on, _scholarships!_ —then perhaps I would just sell myself to a scientific cause, first by selling my kidney, then letting scientists slash diehard old Hollywood fanatics to try cloning me into the next Marilyn Monroe. After all I’ll be so dead (and I will be, with the money problem!). But hey, noble cause. And the insurance money can pay for my little brother’s education.

I know, I know. It sounds depressing, just to think of it. I’m really, really tired. And I can’t smile all the time like nothing disturbs me. If anything, realizing how this world works and how power plays into it _is_ depressing. That is why I’m trying to bring in more positivity in my life, because my life is already pretty miserable without Debbie Downer that is a compendium of sad, dank memes.

What, do you want to protest because I sound oh-so-very millennial? What a Debbie Downer.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I keep walking, not wanting to waste more time idling just so I can check whatever-incoming it is. I’m already tired, and I don’t want to make it harder for me. But at the same time I have a little brother, and I want to make sure that everything is taken care of while I’m gone. My little brother is studious. He’s also one of the sweetest kids you will ever know, and I want to make sure he had his dinner and all that.

Apparently it’s not from Coirpre—my little brother. Instead it’s just a notification from Instagram because I got a new comment on the recent photo I posted. Well, sometimes I lost track because I do have a… quite an impressive follower count on Instagram based on what I do. But the truth is, I do not follow many accounts. Most of the accounts I follow back are for business if not the friends and people I do know in real life. I’m actually sociable. It’s just I draw a firm line between my personal and semi-professional life, and growing up mostly alone all my life if not for Coirpre to come into my life later, I’m just used to precautions like that. I never imagined my Instagram would blow up like this, you know?

… Look, if I can’t even walk freely like a velociraptor trying to catch up with my late-night train without these stares and whistles, I’m not risking anything.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Wish me luck I need the extra credit and building a CV hehe~! XX._

 **_larceiheyhey @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Lene, you’re not home yet??_

Ah, it’s Larcei. She truly worries about me, and I can’t blame her for that. If anything, I’m thankful. In a way she looks after me—tends to check wherever I’m out to places I’m not familiar with, or if I have a dancing gig on unlikely hour. Sometimes she also performs with me, and being the one with a car makes her the designated driver if our schedules happen to sync. She posts her reply on a photo I posted in the afternoon when I left campus—a selfie of me holding a flyer which I took at Master Cakes. I needed that extra sugar to power me up, and no place understands girls better than Master Cakes.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Nopenope I’m heading 2 da sts as we speak omg I’ll check my email later I promise, I won’t desert my battalion we’re gonna do this paper like a champ! XX. **@larceiheyhey**_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _Sts… saints? Is this the new autocorrect mishap for STDs or **@dandancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Ooomg Larcei lololol nope~! Station **@larceiheyhey**_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _Oh kewl we still have one day left anyway, I was just worried lol **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _It’s ok babe I’ll txt u l8r k bye **@larceiheyhey**_

I keep my phone in my hand after locking it. I told Coirpre to contact me for anything, no matter how trivial it sounds, especially when I know I’m going to be late and leaving him home alone like this. As I previously said, Coirpre is a sweet kid. He tends to be reluctant at times, and it results with him being silent and enduring because he does not want to trouble me.

Coirpre just started middle school this year, and he has not had his thirteenth birthday yet. If adjusting to a new school itself isn’t already hard, there he is, my sweet slash reluctant but studious little brother who is almost like he wants to assert to me that his presence is not burdening me. He will quietly do his homework, switching to picking up house chores that I get home to a spotlessly clean kitchen and bathroom for a nice hot bath later. Coirpre who often brings home his allowance in full, and then opens his money box where he stores them for me by the end of the month as I feel like crying because there is nearly nothing left on our table after I pay for the electricity bill. And because of that, if there is something I’ll never give up for besides dancing, it will be my dear little brother. Knowing him, I want him to feel at ease instead of a… subconscious burden like that.

No child should feel like he is utterly useless because he does not work. No child should feel like he must choose between a cup of ice cream or donating to Big Sis’ household utility saving.

Thinking of Coirpre makes me fidgeting with the phone in my hand. Perhaps I should check. After all he is _the_ child, and anything can happen even if it means algebra he cannot solve. First thing first I do not want him to feel neglected, of course…

I dial Coipre’s number, reluctantly. He should be sleeping, and even if he is not right now, he should be. But I want to make sure everything is alright, and if he has not had his dinner I may be able to pick up something on the way home from the 24-hour minimarket and McDonald’s close to the station.

“Coirpre?” I speak on the phone, picturing him doing homework with his books scattering on our coffee table just before the TV. If he is asleep, I hope he’ll move to his bedroom after taking my call.

No answer.

I dial for the second time.

“Coirpre?” I speak again, softer this time.

No answer. My little brother is asleep then. Somehow I feel guilty when I come home late to find him sleepily waiting on me at the very same spot where he does his homework. Well, at least he is asleep. This way I can just go home, bathe, and probably unwind a little bit before checking the email from Larcei. Sigh, another night, another stolen sleep!

The street is awfully quiet, spare some street light somberly growing at the sides above me. I can see the station, though, so I should be there in no time. With trains tend to be empty at this hour, perhaps I can steal some sleep before slamming that duet paper I need to complete with Larcei.

Still, I clutch my phone tightly in my hand. Just in case, you know? Because there is a good chance that Coirpre is not asleep, as much as I think he is. Later when I’m seated and can hold my bag in my lap then I’ll pocket it again, perhaps. Gods, what is it with women’s pants and their nonexistent pockets?! Do you think we don’t have wallets and phones like men do?!

… I swear, if I were to be a dictator, my first edict would be imprisoning those who refuse to make women’s clothing more… _humane._ In before I hear one more “But Lene,” you probably think, “What about girls and their small hands?”—here’s the thing, phones do not conform to our small feminine hands. Ask a phoneblet, offender of technology and fashion combined. There you go, your villain.

Gods, I snorted. Feminine hands what?

“Fearless, eh?”

… Shit. What was that? I thought five catcalls as I walked by would be enough. I was mistaken.

I glance around, trying to find the source of the voice. Nope. Nobody is around, the street is still as quiet and empty as before. If anything, one of the street lights is acting again because it blinks on-off that, at this point, I’m sure will arouse a horror movie director.

“Move. I’m in a hurry.”

I stop dead at my track. Of course I did not say that. That isn’t even my voice to begin with, because it’s of low chords and rather deep, like someone is scowling… huskily. I don’t know if you can _glare_ with your voice, but this guy definitely nails it.

… Yeah, it’s a man’s voice. And no, despite how interesting ‘scowling huskily’ may sound, if vocal chord can carry a sword and threaten murder, this man’s sure does.

I walk closer. After all, I _need_ to get to the station. Perhaps I’m simply listening something out of random. Because the night is quiet, the street is empty, sounds around here come out louder than it would have been.

“Who do you think you are? Superman?!”

“Listen, I don’t have time for this. Get lost already.”

I’m getting closer to the source of conflict—I know it. Because as I approach, the voices only get to be louder. … Oh gods. No. Am I going to be trapped between fighting guys or what? But what about my train?! My _last_ train to _my_ station?!

I hate conflicts. I hate it when people have to obnoxiously yell at each other. I hate the sound of a door being slammed shut. I hate all the unnecessary violence, the sickening display of machismo. Key here is unnecessary and obnoxious, though. Like somehow there are these men who probably think that if they do not do these things, they are less of a man. Interesting how they put their manliness value in… acts of _aggression,_ don’t you think?

I don’t even know what Deep Chords’ problem is with the person he confronts—or rather, confronts him, perhaps, by the sounds of it. One thing I’m sure about is getting to my station, safe and unscathed. I told you I was used to being cautious, right? Well, here we go again. It’s during times like this where I’m going to be unapologetically extra cautious and nobody can blame me for it. 

“Or what?!”

Gods, Deep Chords’ offender bellows so loudly…

Before I know it, I’ve subconsciously stepped aside, hiding myself behind the bushes which decorate the sides of the street. I’m not particularly tall or model-like muscular, so I hope the bushes will do fine hiding me from the belligerent parties. It’s rather uncomfortable, of course, having to squeeze myself to fit in the narrow path between the bushes. I feel like an odd Tetris block, shrinking in a way so they can’t see me. And I’ve probably offended the shrimp population by trying to imitate one of them too…

But I get a pretty clear view of what is happening from my hiding place here. I’m seeing Deep Chords facing off against his opponent, whom I cannot fathom from this distance. I don’t see Deep Chords that clearly, either—but with one yelling and another sounding menacingly taciturn, who said what is clear.

… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else can be _menacingly taciturn_ before.

It happens so suddenly, however. I see Bellowing Asshole whistles. Out of nowhere, another figure jumps into the fight, and now his arm encircles Deep Chords from behind.

“Stop playing hero, tough guy,” the newcomer hisses. “Your wallet, or your spleen on the ground.”

When he stops talking, the street light blinks again before it goes back to normal. The downside is… _that._

Yes, the view I’m seeing right now, happening before my eyes.

The newcomer has a switch blade pointed at Deep Chords’ neck, while his partner-in-crime grins, cracking his knuckles! What? Am I witnessing a robbery?! Oh… gods. Oh—gods. W-what should I do? I want to run as well. I can’t bet on my chance to win if they are about to corner me like that too. And I have to go now, right away, immediately, before they realize I’m watching.

And I don’t want to lose my purse. Even if I manage the month eating my textbooks, Coirpre needs to eat. He’s growing and adapting to his new school! Not to mention I’m going to be so sad—and fucking mad too—if I have to lose my money like this. My _hard-earned_ money. My ATM card is in my purse.

What… should I do? I have to run. I have to hide. There’s a chance I probably won’t even win a fight against one man, let alone there are two of them with every intent to harm. Oh, did I mention a switch blade? Yes—a switch blade. The thing—ugh, I don’t even feel like saying it!—points gruesomely under the somber street light. I have to go. But where? How do I escape from here without them noticing me? The street is empty. Will it be risky if I take my flight off here like that? What if they are suspicious when a shadow lurks out of the bushes?

… Dear gods, I’m already panicking that I forget I still clutch my phone. Yes, now I can call the police! But first, what is this area _specifically_ called again? … Okay, I can just name the station. Now I’ll need to muffle my voice so that they can’t hear me.

I type the number. My hands tremble that I almost drop the phone if I’m not careful enough. I mean… I don’t live in the fancy or metropolis part of Emblem City like the rich kids clique who happen to attend Jugdral-U such as Ishtar, Julius, or Reinhardt… especially Julius, your very own Rich Kids on Instagram. But even then I never imagine something like this will happen near the station, at least around here. I guess some things still shock you even when you think you are prepared for everything…

Never mind Julius, his property business magnate father or his flashy Instagram posts. I need 911, police, whatever. And I was just one tap away from calling the number when a voice startled me.

“Withdraw that. I told you, I don’t have time to play.”

My ears must have fooled me.

Deep Chords stands proudly even with the switch blade against his neck, cornered by two muggers. And sure that voice _glares_ because what previously sounds dismissively annoyed has turned into annoyed-annoyed kind of annoyed. Does this guy even have a shred of fear left?!

I can’t fathom myself—or my reaction. I reflexively reveal myself by running into them, with a death grip on my phone. “Noooo! Stop!! Police!! Fire!” before I could even think, I’m screaming as loud as I can muster. I learned this from those self-defense tips—shouting ‘fire’ instead of ‘help’ or ‘police’. Oh, the irony; people are most likely concerned and willing to band together to help you when they think you are _not_ actually in direct danger.

A girl deserves her fun, including the rose gold color. Yet at the same time, a girl gotta survive.

“I dialed 911! Leave, please, take what you need and just leave!” I don’t know I can scream this loud. I mostly keep my deepest emotions—sentiments—to myself, being the rock Coirpre needs. After all, I am aware what this world is like, and feeling hurt only gets you to feel… even more hurt.

But I know I’ll be ridden with guilt if I didn’t do something to help him.

Being in their periphery now gives me a _transparent-clear_ view of the people involved, especially Deep Chords. And gods, this man has a way with his eyes considering he keeps shooting dagger glares at the other two. First thing first, he has a tall posture, and that black leather jacket gives off an impression of a gruffly unyielding person. Considering never once he flinched or appeared unnerved, it’s like he’s got a hold of the ground in the most literal sense possible. Like he masters it, the way his legs are firmly planted there, as if his waist below screams potent strength.

… That, or he’s incredibly foolish. Oh wait—can it be possible? What if he’s in a state of shock?

“You dialed 911?” Deep Chords looks at me.

“Yes, exactly! Let’s leave. Let’s just give what they want,” I reply, still flummoxed by the fact that he… sounds genuinely surprised? Like… hello? Yes, Sir, this is a robbery and the mugger points a knife at you! And well, I’m lying. I haven’t actually made the call, but a confused attacker makes a deterred assailant, and we can buy our escape from here.

“No. There’s my mom’s money there,” Deep Chords simply shrugs, and I guess fate dictates that I have to be made startled twice in a row.

“Your mom’s… money?” Just what on EARTH is he thinking, at a moment like this?!

“Yeah,” Deep Chords answers again. He simply grabs the hand pointing the knife at him, twisting it in a manner only action movies with good choreography can give you. He raises his elbow, taking his opponent’s upper wrist, around the area close to the line of his thumb. He twists it without batting an eye, his thumb pressing against the base of the bony area of his attacker’s thumb.

It is so rapid because the next thing I know the mugger yelps in pain, dropping the switch blade to the ground which Deep Chords then kicks aside. When he’s done disarming his opponent… at ease, mind you, he follows up, planting a firm grip against the man’s waistband before hoisting his body and does a throw-down over his head. 

I can’t believe it. He made it appear so natural. Like, truly knows what he’s doing kind of easy. Shitty street lamp blinks once again before making a buzzing sound, this time manages to pump the light source needed that I get to see more of him.

At this point I’m not going to be surprised if he tells me that his name is Mufasa.

… Okay, bad analogy. At least Mufasa is kind, while he shoots dagger-glare and acts undisturbed if not returning my concerns with a devil-may-care attitude. … Fair point, considering he did subdue his attacker so smoothly like that. But really though, he’s got this mullet, shoulder-length _beautiful lustrous_ blond hair—if this mediocre street lamp can be trusted, or that he owes his life to a great hair gel. But still—yes, he’s got blond hair, shoulder-length, with a side-sweep to the right. It’s almost like every inch of this hair screams murder and rebellion at the same time, so perhaps it’s a good thing that he appears so dismissive and flat because… imagine if he’s as ferocious as what his hair conveys.

… Hold on. He is. He now puts his foot against knife guy’s palm. His sneaker mercilessly nails the opponent’s movement as he picks up the switch blade off the ground.

“Next time you may not be so lucky,” coldly he says, and…

… Gods.

The switch blade _breaks_ easily under his hands. He broke it. Literally. In two. So not only this guy is a brooding dork, he’s got the strength of a lion too?! Mufasa, is this your grandkid?!

“You over there!” he shifts his attention to the other one, who now looks pale in fright. Can’t blame him. Oh my god, the lion here just made me sympathize with a villain! I feel so cheated somehow. “Get lost.”

He does not need to bark it twice because gone the mugger is.

Deep Chords exhales, huffing. As he moves around his blond hair only makes even sharper contrast against everything on him. First, not only that his skin is pale, but also because he’s dressed in black. His leather jacket, his sneakers—ah, I think it’s a pair of Nike!—even his pants are black too.

I slide closer. If his eyes turn to be black too—you know, like in horror movies—then I’m going to bolt out. I need to make sure he’s still human, not a lion shapeshifter or a shadow folk.

“… Um, everything okay?” is the only thing can I blurt out at this spur moment.

He sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Excuse me?”

“What are you doing, challenging danger like that? What if they got you instead?!”

My ears are definitely trying to fool me because those sharp eyes are now glaring at me. Under this dim light I can’t really make what their colors are—hazel, probably light brown, I don’t know. But first thing first… “Did you just criticize me for trying to help you?”

He appears to be baffled. I don’t care. I’m exhausted, and it’s not like I can just go to sleep once I come home. I’ll still need to check for Larcei’s email, do my part for the group project, make sure Coirpre is taken care of and probably review his homework too. I just witnessed a man holding another at a blade point, I just got out of the situation where I had no idea where I was because I did not drive here myself. I had to hide myself behind the bushes, worrying for my safety and contemplating to call 911 on a matter that is not supposed to concern me. I mean, I could have gotten away, probably, by sneaking out while Deep Chords there playing tough and heroic like that.

Hell, I did not even expect a thank you. That was simply something I KNEW I had to do, but he did not have to make it sound like… I was meddling. As if I interfered with his business—ah, yes, I did, by trying to save his life!

“That is not the point. I…” he opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him there.

“I think you just did. And mind you, for trying to save your life,” I can feel my face burning at this point. My knuckles are balled at my sides, and there’s this sudden urge rising from under my chest screaming to fight. “I was there behind the bushes when I saw you getting cornered. I do not have anything with me besides the phone I _forgot_ to put back—and my keys, perhaps, but I doubt they could withstand a pocket knife, just so you know. And that is not the point either, because you are an asshole.”

The look on his face is priceless though. He appears to be _shocked_ and no longer surprised. What, you’ve never been called an asshole in your life? Good, this is your first time, blond boy. I expect him to argue, berate me, or even overlord me with yet another “But” defense. Yet there he is, looking puzzled, eyebrows knitting without any word or any sound to convey to me.

“Ah…”

That’s it? An “Ah”?

… You have to be kidding me.

With it, I leave, still with my phone in hand. There we go again, my temper. And I don’t care if this makes that I have to call 911 _on him_ in case he wants to play tough against me as well. See if I care, you gel-eating jerk! What is it with guys with nice hair and not-nice attitude? Gods.

“Wait.”

No way.

He tries to match my paces as I accelerate. I need the train. And if this guy is going to conduct himself like a real asshole, then I’m doomed because he’s strong and fast. Great, running into a weird old man at the club I got back from, then to a knife-wielding mugger. And what do I get after leaving them both? A dangerous dork who knows kungfu?

“Wait, Miss. Please.”

Miss? And a ‘please’ too at that?

Still, no way. I’m not going to stop and let my guard down. Changing tactics will not work on me, Mufasa! You probably can disarm people easily like that, but I’ve seen too many things to not trust men easily. After all, if I don’t give in, I will not have to disarm anyone. … Okay, not literally, but…

“You’re walking?”

He still tries to make a conversation with me? How persistent, eeegggh! “Yes! Why is it your concern?”

“Dangerous.”

He does not appear to be breaking a sweat, yet his paces start to rival mine. Either he does know his kungfu or it’s just his genetics generously rewarding him with the advantage of height. He takes long strands, yet they are almost soundless as he walks.

I take back my words—he is a lion demon. Otherwise, explain this then?

“Is that on your top vocabulary list or can you actually say something else?” I glance at him, putting more power and speed as I talk. These legs are trained too—rival them if you can, Mufasa!

“Sure not. Are you heading to the station, if I may?”

“You have your guess, why bother to ask?” sighing, I put more speed in my footsteps. I wanted to sound indifferent, like he does not actually bother me at all. Yet that one came sourer than my intention. Although… did he actually say ‘if I may’? Really?

“If that is the case, let me walk with you.”

… Oh, come on. It’s so yesterday. Really, chivalry in this day and age? Decency even bears no meaning these days, and if he is trying, to be honest he is trying too hard. “No, thank you,” pursing my lips into the kind of smile I feel like knowing since forever, I turn around, facing him. “… Asshole!”

He looks so stunned where he is, and I take my leave at an instant. He can get contemplative and brooding all he likes, and I’ll be off steps ahead if he decides that hey, probably he is going to be honest by telling me he does not like me doing that to him. And if that’s the kind of “Wanna grab tea?” kind of “Let me walk with you,” then he can eat all the dust in the world because I’ll be on the train.

“… Ah.”

I just heard him muttering that again. He looks like he is about to say something, but the moment he sees me frantically tapping my card, he stops. I glance at him, sparing a victorious smile I thought I never had; but quickly wipe it off in case it only provokes him. Some men are just that persistent and can be. I’ve seen things. Some of my friends have a job waitressing or working retails, and they always have that kind of story with suspense and horror in between.  

He still stands where he is. I can feel that his eyes are fixated on me, and I begin to worry. He’s not going to jump over the metal bar there to come get me here, isn’t he? He looks like he’s got the prowess to do so if he so wishes. It’s hard to truly make what that face says with this kind of darkness and distance…

Then I hear an announcer’s voice blaring through the speakers around the station. It startles me because I’ve been so anxious about him that I wasn’t pay attention to the train I’m actually waiting for. Clutching my phone tightly, I step into the train when it stops; still facing the doors even though it is empty enough that I can just pick a vacant seat in the midst of others.

He has his hands tucked in his pocket, but I think I can see the corner of his mouth twitches a bit as the train starts to move. He turns his back, moving away from the entry gate as I settle comfortably into a seat, with my bag in my lap.

I’m quite curious to know if he is actually _smiling_ somehow.

* * *

  

The first thing I notice is my own alarm blasting me …. Or I actually rode a ghost train last night and it transported me to whatever fantasy war zone to ever exist. There has to be an air raid, I thought—and I must have been struck with a grenade because my waist feels sore and awkward.

“Sis?”

I roll in my bed. No way! Coirpre, I’m going to get us out of here! Find a backup or something! Nooo—

_THUD!_

“Hnnn,” groaning, I pick up myself to stand. I landed ungraciously on the floor. My head still feels a bit heavy, and it will be great if I can have a nice long bath to soak my feet in warm water before I get to do everything for the day. I glance at myself then. I am still dressed in the clothing I wore last night—a shocking pink halter-top which I cover with a navy blue blazer because hashtag professionalism, and the skinny denim to pair them up with. Gods, I’m totally exhausted that I did not even recall where I toed my shoes off after I got home. I will have to find them later, perhaps somewhere in the black hole that is under my bed. I love those nude wedges, you know?! Even better, they were on discount!

Dragging myself further, I begin to check on my appearance. My ponytail is disheveled, and there are traces of sleepiness on my face. I’m only thankful I wasn’t drooling though. … Allegedly, sigh. I really don’t feel like getting up from the bed at the moment, but I guess I need to thank the inner fairy godmother in me which _loathes_ unkempt clothing and unmade bed more than I love my laziness.

… Sigh, alright, alright. With a heavy heart, you, one of my favorite blouses, must go to the purgatory that is washing machine. And I hate to wake up late and take a bath even later. Hnnn!

_You want a Bugatti?_

I stop. My closet is half-open now. Hell yeah sure I do. Why not?

_You want a Maseratti?_

Not going to turn that down either! And why is this damn bra so hard to pull out of this pile of garments?

_You better work, bitch._

… There I am, tumbling more dramatically than Juliet after rage-quitting life on stage by the grace of the whispers of her hormones. I manage to save the favorite bra from the onslaught, but a blue crop-top is falling on my head while Britney slaps my face.

Um, “Britney” is what I call this pair of light blue hipster-waist jeans, thank you.

Hold on. Speaking of Britney—

Instinctively leaping into the bed again after generously giving myself a not-so gracious head smack, I retrieve my blinking phone. Oh, right. That is my alarm—Britney and her _Work, Bitch_ is now sassing me, reminding me that I can’t sleep as dead as Aurora or suffer from food poisoning like Snow White because I need to get up, miserably do what I need for the day, longing for a nice sleep on a merciless Saturday. On top of that I have sore feet. I guess sprinting to the station in those seven-centimeter wedges is not the wisest decision I made last night.

… I dreamed of war. Can I just be Mulan and save the city from a war to excuse myself from having to look nice and smell nice for the day? No?

… Anyway, speaking of sprinting… to the station…

Oh, right. The deep-voiced Kungfu Mufasa. Gods be damned, how could I forget?! If I ever see him again around, I’ll drag him to some nice store and make him run in fucking wedges. I don’t care if they don’t have his size, dammit.

With one swift tap I murder Britney in cold blood. Good, no more Britney to call me a bitch for today!

I should probably start cleaning the mess because I know that temptation to well—the more you stall the more tempted you are to procrastinate, I suppose. And I need to check things out because my sleepy mind is hazy-blank that I forget what I have to do today. And an unlocked phone being at your mercy sure is too tempting to put back right away, right? … Right…

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Lene._

Direct message? From Larcei?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Heyyy!_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Have you checked the email? I’m heading out so if you want to add something._

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Btw ohhh thank godssss you respond._

I bite my lips. She is rather protective of the girls in our group—understandable. Her mother has always been a fiercely independent woman one should not mess with, having raised her (hot) cousin Shannan after his father’s death and witnessing all the lemons life could throw. Larcei may come off hot-headed to others, but we’ve got each other’s backs ever since I met her at a _studium generale_ session of this art history class we had to take because our majors are related.

I suppose it does not hurt to tell you about myself a bit. So! I’m Lene Bragi. Sophomore at Jugdral University, or as we students call it, Jugdral-U. Performing arts major, visual arts minor! My concentration is dancing and choreography, and I’m always up for a challenge be it an opera-like stage or actual dancing gig. Larcei studies visual communication design, mirroring in visual art like me. She always has a passion for feminism and gender-related issues, and we kind of bond with each other that way. Larcei says she wants to enter the designing industry by hopefully bringing a change in the way women are depicted in media—mainly TV commercials and this thing about ‘corporate face’ like the one you see on their websites and all that.

“They want to sell spearmint candies. So why the hell the model has to be size two with perfect Barbie look like she just came out straight out of a cyborg factory?” she said then. “And I don’t get it, how do you even make candies sexy? How the _hell_ are you going to sexily eat candies?”

“Ask the Cosmopolitan magazine, Larcei,” I responded then. “Channel his inner stallion…”

“… Make him eat hay,” she finished my sentence, prompting us to laugh our asses off.

I think I’ve mentioned my longing (heh) towards owning a car. Well… I live in this humble rented apartment with my little brother, Coirpre. My parents… I don’t know. I mean, supposedly my parents separated when I was a child, and both Coirpre and I were raised by different people under different circumstances. I left the orphanage—then shelter—I was staying when I turned eighteen, being informed I received a handsome scholarship to go to Judgral-U based on my talent as a dancer. I lived in the university dormitory for a while because, you know, no money—and then a kind Mr. Hannibal contacted me asking if I knew this orphanage and stuff. The last thing I knew, apparently I had a little brother he had taken to live with him since he spotted poor little Coirpre shivering in an orphanage.

I’m not sure if I can call myself blessed or not, but really though, considering it could have been so much worse than this, I suppose I am grateful. And I’m not going to let life get in my way. After all now that I have Coirpre, there are two of us against the world instead of just my being alone. This Mr. Hannibal is also the landlord who rents his apartment for us, and he has done so much more than I can even hope.

First thing first he understands when I’d like to take Coirpre living with me. He still visits us from time to time, and leaves his number in case we need anything. The shadow dad kind of presence which makes us feel assured and taken care of, you know? I do not doubt that he wants to adopt Coirpre, but my person is entirely a different case. I’m not going to ask more than what I already have, and I have to be prepared to fend for myself. Luckily Coirpre seems to share my zeal because he, forever grateful of him, determines to be independent. And living with me seems to be the answer he needs, because he keeps telling me how he does not feel like taking advantage of Hannibal’s kindness anymore now that he knows Coirpre has a sister. And I’m of legal age now—I want to feel like one.

I only wish one day I could make it big worldwide so that I could pay him back. One can dream, but if I could graduate from school and then land a big ass project—as a choreographer, stage dancer, theater actress, whatever, seriously!—I’ll take it. I recall my mother was a famous dancer and stage person too, so I thought… well, perhaps if I made myself shine and my name spread across continents I might find her back. Or her traces, footprints, anything. Paris, Moulin Rouge… if I could dream, oh gods, how I wish.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_I haven’t omg I’m so sorry I slept like a tired baby I’m surprised I wasn’t dead._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Master Cakes for brainstorming then? >:) _

I glance at the clock sitting gracefully on the counter near my bed.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_I need to coach tho!_

I did not tell her that I’m almost flat-broke. This month is nearing the end, and for the past few weeks I haven’t been able to land a gig in clubs nearby. Sure there is Tirnanog Bar and Grill where Jugdral-U kids go to. Tirnanog hosts music and performances weekly, but the pay is meager considering this is a student-friendly place. The thing is, when you are hungry, hunger does not differentiate ‘meager’ and ‘bigger’. The bar accepting us hungry college kids for part-timing itself is already nice, in my opinion.

… Yeah, pun intended. Sorry it sounds awkward, I’m not that much of a booksmart, darn it.

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
I forgot! The Thracia kids again?_

I nod. And then I realize she can’t see me nodding through Instagram like that. Gods, I’m stupid.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Yeah Thracia pays me so I’m not going to turn it down. Need something to warm my legs in hunger._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
… Find a boyfriend?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
A heater for now, sigh._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Boyfriend needs no electricity 8)_

I snicker. Boyfriend? What kind of species is that? I’m a semi-professional dancer (because you know, you have to say that even for modesty reason because I’m still a student). Based on my luck so far (not), boys I know get rather… I don’t know, zealous when they know I am a dancer. Not to mention the STEM folks already talk down on me at the first “Hi, I’m Lene, art major.” If not that, then they think I’m all about all the sexy shit and wild acts just because the word ‘dancer’ is carved on my forehead, apparently.

I’m not even sure if I can date. I’m dead busy with my own life and taking care of Coirpre’s. I’m not sure I can enjoy myself when I constantly worry about money. It’s not fun to add ‘cheapest dating spot and activities’ to your Google search, I mean… I want to feel accepted and have fun too at the same time without feeling like I have to beg for life to squeeze a little corner for me to fit in. At the same time I don’t feel like accepting favors all the time, you know? It will make me feel like I’m bought, and at the moment I’m not even interested to mine extra dollars _in that sense,_ if you know what I’m saying.

Some guys I tried to warm up to seemed to be kind of turned off when they saw me taking care of Coirpre. It was as if they felt like they were about to make a commitment with a single mom, you know? And honestly? A man who can’t be nice to my little brother does not seem to be the kind of man I’d want to invite into my life. Yeah my dude sorry that not all people have the _privilege_ to not be burdened by life that they have to make the best of they can with the situation they are in. We don’t really have anyone else besides each other, and a man suggesting I kick Coirpre out? A fucking monster.

Besides, boys flock to me when I look sexy. Then run away when I ask to be treated like a human being.

“Sis?”

Coirpre’s face peeks in. I’m close to gasping since he’s got my ill-fated nude wedges in his hands. “Ah, you are awake! These two were at the kitchen. I was worried if…”

Coirpre instantly shuts his mouth when I pull him closer into a hug. “Nooo Coirpre, my ray of sunshine. I’m not drunk, only tiiired as hell.”

He looks calmer now. Which makes me wonder—how shitty did I look last night? “I wish I was a big, rich man so you did not have to work so hard,” he mutters, looking at the floor.

“Awh, I appreciate the concern, my chivalrous brother,” I smile at him, rubbing his cheek gently with my hand. “Just do your best at school, alright? Listen now, I’m older. So it’s only expected.”

“But you are also my sister,” he speaks again. “I want you to be comfortable too.”

“I have you. I’m already happy,” I nudge him softly.

“Hnnn,” he sighs sheepishly. “Are you working too today?”

“I’m coaching your friends. Your school pays me, remember?” I nod, referring to the project I’m paid to do with the Thracia kids. For weeks, the Thracia Academy had been looking for a choreographer and dancing instructor to train their cheerleader team for an upcoming soccer match in a few months. When I heard from Coirpre that the middle school had a hard time to find someone for the position, I quickly seized the opportunity. This way I could bond with Coirpre and got to know his school better. Apparently most of the reason why more-experienced dancers did not want to do it was not just that their schedule was pretty tight, but the small wage makes a rather defining factor.

While it may be true, I’m not really selective. A job is a job, and what’s meager can be big if it keeps coming and can be combined with other sources. After all I can’t always do Tirnanog. Wanting to make it into night clubs… well, I will need time and reliable sources to be convinced of my well-being while there. I can’t really ask people about this—Larcei is not into that kind of place, which she views as exploitation. I suppose I can ask for other cliques like the rich queens of Jugdral—Ishtar and her ladies-in-waiting… sorry, friends, I guess—Maybell, Bleg, and Meng, but… I don’t like it. I don’t want to feel like I’m begging, I told you. I mean, I know it’s not like I’m begging Ishtar to introduce me to top places, but I still don’t like the feeling of possibly owning her or her minions _my life._

“There is this science project I need to do. I’m not sure if I can,” Coirpre looks down again.

“Let’s see. What if I return earlier with your favorite burgers? Then we can think of something,” I suggest. I’ve done a volcano for a similar project prior. This is what Coirpre wants, right? If so, then I’ll just raid the kitchen to make the bomb… hey calm down FBI Man spying from my laptop camera, it’s a joke!

“Oh, alright then! Love you, Sis.”

“Love you too, Coirpre,” I ruffle his hair. “Thank you for saving my shoes.”

“Yay. Big man in the making,” he chirps before leaving me to get some cereals in the kitchen.

I shake my head, feeling a bit melancholic this time. Burgers. I’m not even sure how much I have left in my purse, or if I need to grind my card again at a nearby ATM machine. I could not turn him down. He starts to be aware of… _things_ , and I want him to have a nice middle-schooling experience.

This is so unfair. Ishtar and her minions can flush a Macbook down a toilet while drinking champagne and have the entire bathroom renovated. Then there is me, trying to make my brother happier by promising burgers.

I drag a pair of comfortable, soft canvas shoes from my closet. They are white like fluffy clouds and I’ve replaced the shoelaces with cheap ass garage sale finding I got last week—instead of plain dirt-prone white shoelaces, they are now decorated in a pair of baby blue shoelaces, with pink shades here and there like a twisted candy.

I throw my purse into my burgundy-colored backpack. Topping my baby blue crop-top with a light brown coat, I banish my phone into the shallow pocket of my hipster jeans. Checking my face one last time and applying salmon-colored lip gloss over my lips, I do not stop to check on my outfit unlike what I typically do.

I’m aware my entire being may scream Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, but at least any unfortunate soul who meets me outside may think I’m so obnoxiously happy when in reality, I just want to be alone and probably conjure a demon with my bills as the offering.


	2. Not Marilyn Monroe

My feet feel sore.

I think I’ve strained them after last night. And now I’m off to coach these middle-schoolers, all the while feeling so lethargic, exhausted, and… hungry, yes. I did not pick up any food. I’m already almost-late anyway, and I did not even bother to check my balance last night to see how much it actually is that I still have. But I’m not backing down. I’ll coach these girls just as I would any other. If I want to be professional then my conduct has to be.

I’m told that they will meet me at the park, near the gym which is just conveniently situated near a shopping spree where three grocery stores and boutiques are. There would have been better, more luxurious shops at the metropolitan area which would be mere blocks away from Master Cakes, near those business magnates’ towers where they rule the world and destroy it at the same time, perhaps.

But before I go, of course I need to take a photo first.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _Hellooo lovelies! Nice Saturday we are havin rn r8~? Hope your day goes well._

The park is pretty empty, perhaps because it is too early for people to be. Or the weekend morning folks just finish their walks and… I don’t know what else you can do in a park in the morning? Doing sports I guess. Ah, I left out some details there. I do have basic workout training because my school has a nice sports hall with a mattress and all that. As a performing arts major—especially in the dancing program, basically we nearly conquer the place like it is truly ours and ours only. Since I usually have my practice sessions in school, if I’m not busy hunting money I just use the little bit of time I have to rest.

I sit myself at a nearby bench. None of the girls shows up so far…

“Hello?”

I tapped Coirpre’s number by accident. Easily so, considering he was the last person I called last night. I must have fiddled with my phone due to the idleness… ugh, I hate it when people do not appreciate my time like this.

“Sis?”

“Uh—eh, Coirpre? Umm. That was accidental. Sorry! How is your science project?”

“I’m Googling some things right now. For inspiration,” he answers on the phone. “Can I use your laptop, please? Long articles often not loading well on an outdated browser.”

I can’t say no. That second-hand outdated basic phone I procured for him must have been not enough. Gods, now I’m thinking if he truly survives his first weeks as a new kid in town at Thracia Academy.

“Sure! Just be mindful for it, alright~?” I keep my voice cheery.

“Okay! I’ll leave it as good as it was when you last used it. I’ll be on guest account too, Sis!”

My little brother… so good… so understanding…

“Oookay~! Work hard, Coirpre~! Bye now!”

“Ummm, wait, wait!” he hastily adds. Thankfully I haven’t ended the call yet. “Everything is ok, right?”

… Huh?

“Ah, Coirpre. Why do you ask~?”

“I mean… my friends don’t ditch you or anything. … Right, Lene? I mean… I mean why would you…” he coughs softly. “I-I’m sorry, Sis! I’m not snooping, of course! Um, good luck! Aaand, burgers!”

… I’ll get those damn burgers. Gods. I don’t care if I have to CRAWL home after this. I’ll get you the food.

I glance at my watch. Half past eleven now. I’ve heard mean girls. I’ve had my fair share of them getting catty with me. Shit, Ishtar’s capo-trio might as well be Jugdral-U’s very own mean girls. … But I can’t imagine that myself, now at nineteen and being sooo over high school-esque drama, getting owned by a bunch of kids who are probably not even older than fourteen.

And it’s still rather quiet now that I check on my Instagram again.

 ** _amalduh_** _Are you going to drop a new beauty vid **@dancedancerebellion** your concealer is on point! I’m ashamed… so ashamed that I cannot properly help my own face, despite being from Alster High famous for beauty goddesses and teen idols… everyone be like putting this fiery red on their lips and I’ll be like yeah it’s me with smeared blood on my face… the blood-covered murderer… me…_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Omg Amalda, duh!! True beauty comes from the heart and within! Shiiine, baby~! **@amalduh** and yes probz tonite lol been meaning to review some products anyway! Youre fyn just the way ur gurl chin up and cheer up! XX._

 **_queenbee_ ** _And then this bitch says she’s poor **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Ukno what Meng **@queenbee** youre right lmfao my manner is rich bye sis_

 **_notmaybelline_ ** _*You know; *you’re **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _*Asshole; lol sorry Maybell…ine XOXO **@notmaybelline**_

Yeah, I do makeup videos and tutorials too sometimes. Actually, that’s what I’m doing on my Instagram. At first I use it for people I know only. I love posting my dancing workouts and the choreographies I’m planning on there too. I don’t mind sharing. I mean, I’ve got nothing to hide. This is the same Lene Bragi, the fake poor girl (allegedly) who must be a masochistic self-destructing bitch because how DARE I’ve got a dream and actually majoring in performing arts to achieve that. This is the Lene Bragi who dances and posts about it to give a glimpse of what I actually do at school and out. And then I began filling Jugdral-U’s monthly papers, manned by students for students, taking advice column and like, you know, those tips and tricks before I eventually kiiind of established myself as one of those Instagram beauty vloggers. I’ve amassed some nice thousand-something followers so far. I’m a performing arts major, and I have to know my décor and makeup because I do theater too at times. So why not?

Some comments are nice, some are not. Life, I guess. But not gonna lie, kind of saddens me when it is girls that are unpleasant. Boys are either spewing lewd comments or complimenting me like I’m this strong and tough Amazon queen Penthesilea who will crush their heads with my thighs. Actually, that is an interesting concept and I would LOVE to have the skill, and I also… sobs, I do like Penthesilea!

… Do not remind me of that theory of Achilles’ supposed necrophilia after he kills her, though. But really? Achilles loves her just because they exchange a gaze when she’s being murdered? And Larcei thinks I’m a sultry romantic who needs to find a boyfriend.

 ** _somerandomcommenter_** _hey can you do a lighter makeup tip next time for daily wear and such?_

 **_lookmaimonIG_ ** _love your acc, just subscribed! suplex me like im a tax return report o my great amazon dancer **@dancedancerebellion** _

… Tax return? That… truly is some uncommon kink I’ve never heard before.

 **_milfhunter_ ** _i love the little thing you do with your petite body hopping around **@dancedancerebellion** _

… Are you serious now.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Thank you! It’s called professional dancing btw c: **@milfhunter**_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _you have small feet ;)) **@dancedancerebellion.** size? _

… What the?

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _yours first, when it limps :)_ **_@ratedexplicitonao3_**

The phone flashes so quickly that I’m sure it will bring the Flash to shame. Sigh. Maybe I should have replied nicer. But by gods, can’t these people be a bit nicer to me too?!

 ** _anblacknight_** _liked your comment: “yours first, when it limps :)_ **_@ratedexplicitonao3_** _”_

Fifteen minutes to twelve now.

… You know, at first I think I’m over it, but if those girls do not show up, I will get sad this time. Shit, I’ll probably cry. Just… not the best time to have my mood crushed like this, I suppose. At least contact me or something? Hello? They should have known my name, right?

Just then I hear footsteps. Oh, right! Finally! And I thought I nearly exhaust my patience, with these uncertainties of them purposefully messing with me and dealing with these… well, indecent comments.

“Hello there, girls! Glad that you guys are finally he… re,” my voice immediately dies in my throat. It’s not the school girls I’ve been waiting for. If anything, there is this…

Hold on.

That tall posture. That shoulder-length mullet blond hair. Oooomigods. The mean Kungfu Mufasa from last night!! W-whaaaat?! Why the bloody hell is he even here again? And wow, okay, look at him. He seems to be coming here running because he has his phone clutched in his left hand. His right hand is balled into a fist; his body has been arching forward by the time he makes his rushing entry.

He stops when he sees me, but not for long because he turns his attention to the phone. “Hello? Yeah. Where? Oh. Right,” he concludes his call, returning his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “Ah...”

Really, another “Ah”? Is he a fucking dentist?! Anyway, I’m so jealous of those jeans. Functioning pocket!

“N-no way!” I stare at him in disbelief. He makes a motion to linger closer to me, and I instinctively take a step back. He’s probably going to taunt me about last night. Shit—the victorious smile I spared at him when he nearly bumped his own balls against the station’s metal gate as he looked like he wanted to speak to me. The nice ‘Asshole’ I bestowed upon him. My sassing.

He sighs. Again. Does this guy only know how to say “Ah” and sigh?

But he stops. I mean, I noticed he _stopped._ But then like, he completely stops-stopped after I withdrew like that and accidentally blurted my comment.

“U-um,” I don’t know what to do. Shit, what should I do? My phone is in my hands, yes. But I still have Instagram open. The last phone call I made was Coirpre. Will I have enough time to call 911? Police? Anything? Or should I bolt again? Yeah, my feet still feel sore, but I’ve been seated for a while, and he looks like he comes here running—that will mean he is… exhausted, right?

… Or not. I forgot that based on what I saw last night, this guy is a demon.

“Ah,” I speak again, instantly virtually slapping myself on the forehead. Why did I follow suit by saying it? “I have 911 just a tap away, you know?!” finally gathering my courage, I hold up my phone at his face. “B-back off, you tall, mean, asshole kungfu demon!”

“That’s Instagram though,” his deep chords strike again, his brows frown while his tone is flat this time.

Crap. Crap C-R-A-P. Think something, Lene! T-think something…

“The local police does have an Instagram, you know?!”

Why… does my temper run my mouth faster than my brain ever can?

“Do they?”

Those deep chords have the gall to expose themselves through his mouth again. Is he a dentist—and to top that, an exhibitionist as well? A vocal exhibitionist? … I should probably stop thinking of dumb things because this is not the kind of situation to be a dumb bitch.

But then again, his tone is similar to prior—flat. And those eyebrows only dive deeper.

He tilts his head like he is seriously trying to see my phone screen. And his eyes are just… widened. Like he is so curious and astonished at the same time. And just my luck—well, perhaps I’m lucky indeed for this one—the screen dies as the phone is left idle for more than fifteen seconds.

_No, they don’t, by the way._

Actually I should probably just say yes at this point. Instead, I find myself tongue-tied, baffled by the little lie I started. I know I have a temper. But dishonesty is not… my cup of tea. There is this mannerism I put because you just don’t want to disappoint audiences even though you feel like your ears are melting because of the ridiculous comments and requests they tell you, but I’m not a liar. “Uh,” I mumble.

“Miss.”

Flat tone remains flat. But that... actually, that means there is no anger, no _gleaming_ over catching me off guard, alone, and isolated like this. I mean—I mean he is not… tailing me to get a revenge on me?

“Y-yes? What?!” Those survival tips I read say I have to make a commotion—yell, shout, scream, talk in louder voice to attract a crowd so people know you are in an uncomfortable situation with a person who makes you want to run away.

“… I get it.”

“Getting what—your early Christmas present? That you are an asshole?”

“Yes.”

“Man of few words, aren’t you? Yes for which one?”

He pauses this time, but only for a short while. Slowly his eyes dilate like… slow motion-slowly. The way the universe wakes up in an early morning—the weak, shy sun emerging to light the world, the shades of darkness starting to dissipate as it is being replaced by a beautiful golden ray.

Well, the day is still young—I mean, my girls are late, but it’s barely around twelve at noon, and unlike the uncomfortable meeting we had last night, this time I can make the view.

… But dear gods, though. I’m not ready for this. I _did_ expect he did have a face there and not just some ghostly, demonic lion shapeshifter or shadow folk with hollow black eyes, you know—but what he delivers is like… well, I never signed up for this.

First thing first, he does have a face, so for the time being I assume he is human until he says otherwise. Or behaves otherwise. At least he does not sparkle under the sun. The downside of him having a face is that turns out that face is rather nice to look at, and now I’m not sure if I’m glad that he has a face to begin with. He’s got this rather pale complexion, and although the eighties truly was a great decadence to commit fashion crime, his mullet hair actually frames his nice face befittingly? His lips are sealed tight like either he is solemn or constipated, but even if he is constipated, well… I don’t know many people who can appear to stand up constipated and still look quite majestic while they are at it. Rather sharp, defined cheekbones—and those eyes probably hide unlimited daggers somewhere.

Speaking of majestic… gods, he is actually rather…

… Nah, not gonna say it. Haha, you think I’m weak?!

Second, he is indeed tall! From this rather two arms-length distance between us it is even more noticeable—I suppose if I stand next to him then the top of my head probably only reaches the area under his ear if not his chin. Third, this asshole seems to have a favorite color? The phone he is clutching has a jet-black case. From the little socket peeking out to make rooms for the power and volume buttons, I can see that the phone’s casing appears to be black too. Anyway, more importantly…

… Who buys protector with the same color of the casing again?

I take back my words—he is alleged human. Not human-human yet until I receive a clarification. Or maybe he is indeed a time traveler from the eighties, otherwise explain that mullet again?

This time he has a black t-shirt on, without the black leather jacket I saw last night. His t-shirt is like one of those comfortable body-hugging shirt which appears Bruce Lee-ish, you know what I mean?

… No? Ahhh sorry! It seems I tend to speak in analogies which… nobody else shares. Sobs. Well, it’s like this sporty but casual kind of t-shirt which others may rather wear as an inner layer under their jacket. Okay, he does not appear to have his jacket with him, so I can’t tell. And yes, those are cross country black Nike he wears. It’s like Nike sneakers are already sport shoes, but the ones he has are like… sport-sport. Imagine your sport sneakers take steroids and declare themselves a bodybuilder? Yes, like that.

Ah, but he’s got a pair of classic denim there with its original blue jeans color to pair with them.

“Yes for the asshole part,” he says again. “And now that we’ve met again, I want to apologize.”

 … Those survival tips never told me what to do in case some deep-voiced stranger admitted that he was being an asshole. Moreover, they never told me what to do if the asshole decided to apologize.

“You are… apologizing?” still dumbfounded, I can only repeat what he says.

 “Yes. I’m sorry,” his eyes are fixed on mine this time. Then I notice their colors match his hair. Wew, this guy is an evil Mufasa inside-out. I mean—he’s got to be a lion demon, with that hair and those eyes. The posture. The strength. I’ll just need to check if he roars.

… The last part sounds naughty, oh my God, darn Larcei and her quip!

“Wild idea isn’t it, being helped?” I did not mean to make a snide comment, yet here we are again. I’m not going to give in so easily. I’m not even sure if he is being sincere or just trying to win me over. Perhaps he senses my doubts so he has to clarify that up, but… like I said, I’ve been so guarded all my life, and I know talk is cheap. Sweet talk? It’s not even ‘cheap’, it’s like a garage sale of something which nobody else wants yet someone will eventually take it home because of the slapped 80% off banner.

“Actually yes,” he nods again. “Again, thank you for trying to protect me. That was my first time.”

… H-he does not have to phrase it like that.

I expected him to feel so turned off because I rebuffed him. You know men tend to have this tendency to smooth things up hoping you will stop calling out their bullshit because apparently, no woman is supposed to resist a sensitive guy who self-deprecates to appease you. Don’t get me wrong, I do like it when men can admit they are wrong, but if it’s just so I shut up, then they can take their fake apology with them on the way out. It’s not about a victory, but like, what is the point if they still don’t get it?

“I’ll leave now,” his voice startles me. “Again, sorry for unnerving you, Miss. Never my intent.”

Never? So—“Uh—why did you chase me then?”

“Huh? I did not,” those eyebrows frown again, and that innocent tone returns. “I was worried there would have been a third guy hiding when you rushed to me. I wanted to make sure you would reach the station safely. I tried to speak to you, but you left hastily so I was thrown in between. I wanted to make sure you’d be safe after I left. ... Did I scare you instead?”

… What?

“Hold on,” I stare at him. “So by dangerous, you meant _I_ could have been in danger?”

He just nods. Again.

“Not like, because it’s not cool to jump into a crime scene armed with a fake-ass phone call?”

“Oh it was uncool indeed,” there was a faint smirk on his face when he said that, which successfully sends me deep-faced-silent-defeated. “I drive around here. Often times until late nearing midnight, so I know this area well—more or less. I expect things may get rough, but not when I’m not alone.”

“You must be a mob boss.”

Gods be damned, my tongue.

“Sadly not. Are you?”

I change my mind, damn him first for delivering his comeback with a straight face. “A mob boss would not try to phone 911, you know? Geez, you are dumb.”

The corner of his mouth twitches a bit. “Not my name though, but I can manage. Reasonable.”

I can’t believe evil Kungfu Mufasa can vanquish any comebacks I’ve planned in mind.

“Glad that it clears everything up then. Again, sorry for unnerving you, Miss,” he nods at me before respectfully withdrawing himself, like it is visible to me that he does not make a startling move or trying to make an exit with a smoke bomb like a ninja, perhaps.

“That sounds so formal though. ‘Miss’? How old are you again?”

“Turned twenty-one recently.”

“… How long have you been twenty-one?”

“… Since twenty-one years ago plus recently?”

“You sound like a human, but nooope I’m not convinced. Who says that in this day and age?”

“… I just did?”

“I mean—YES, I know. Exactly why. But then again, I’m _sure_ you are not actually human, so—“

“Alright then, Girl Who Screamed So Loud Last Night.”

“E—excuse… m-me?!”

“Later, Miss Loud Screamer,” he nods to me again, turning his back as he proceeds to leave the scene. But bake me alive in an oven because I’m willing to bet a hundred push-ups RIGHT NOW that this asshole was… smiling before he left. I mean—the corner of his mouth twitches again, and there is this playful light or some sort in his eyes as he turned away from me. It’s like he is either resisting laughter or challenging me into a fight!

… Either way, HOW DARE HE.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _The sun is strong. You look so blond, fuck you!_

 **_darkscion_ ** _You peasants are funny **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Shut up Julius eat hay your hair already is **@darkscion**_

 **_darkscion_ ** _This hair is Gucci, my little miserable pauper **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _You wear a branded bag as a hat?! That explains everything **@darkscion**_

 **_darkscion_ ** _PERISH then Bragi your hair is a tree and deforestation is rampant **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _May I query Lene why did you say it was blond? **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _‘May I query Lene’ - > No Reinhardt you may not XOXO **@thunderingwithpride**_

 **_schalphy_ ** _The sun is… blond? **@dancedancerebellion** Oh sorry this is Tirnanog’s Seliph, just a heads up._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _**@schalphy** omggg Seliph the best coffee barista in town whats up hon XX_

 **_schalphy_ ** _S-sorry, d-did you just virtually kiss me? **@dancedancerebellion** I haven’t known you for long_

 **_blegh_ ** _Awh look who is cranky because she runs out of sunscreen C: **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Bleg, your name is Bleg. And you think you’re valid **@blegh**_

Sigh.

_You wanna walk the runway, like the hallway! Walk the runway, like the hallway!_

_Bootyful_ from Tyra Banks’ promotional Tyra Cosmetics video blasts me. ... Yeah, I’ve got Britney’s _Work, Bitch_ as my alarm ringtone and this one as my phone ringtone, got a problem?!

“Sis?”

“Coirpre?” I hastily pick it up. “What’s the matter? Some troubles? Oh—the burgers? I remember. You hate pickles. What would you have then, let’s say… bacon? Double cheese?”

“No, Sis. My friends asked where you were. Tinny texted me.”

“I’m at the park?”

“Uhhh. Can you hold on?”

Before I answer, I hear some key tunes beeping, and by then I’ve understood that Coirpre is fiddling with his phone. I can hear some more rapid key-pressing, and then a little… giggle?

“Coirpre?”

I can hear something tumbling, followed by his soft muffled voice.

“… Coirpre? What’s going on?!”

“A-ah. Yes. No, I-I mean, no! Just a little head bump,” he answers. I can picture my brother getting flustered and sheepish because of how obvious he sounds, but… what for again?

“You okay?”

“S-sure! Yes! Very okay. Much okay. So okay.”

“… Stop browsing that wholesome dog meme, Coirpre.”

“Ah, sorry! I’m still Googling what I need, promise!” the odd sounds are back and I picture him tumbling back and forth. Sigh. I hope he does not knock my things off there. “Um. Tinny just texted me back. I uh. I think you might be in the wrong part of the park?”

“WHAT?” can’t help my voice thundering this time. “No way. I’ve been waiting for like, almost half an hour and I’m already late in the first place! Where are they now?”

“The west entrance? You know, I think you are at the east one if you can see Tirnanog and the gym nearby. Gods—Sis, that’s still the area around your campus!”

“I KNOOOW!” panicked, I grab my backpack, running as I talk to Coirpre. Do I match with running like it is a marriage made in distress? Kungfu Mufasa did not make me this time, but nice to know that I’m literally nearly an hour behind just for getting lost. In the region I frequent everyday.

Damn it.

“Do you want to cancel or…”

“No!! Over my spitefully sprinting after-death spectral soul first,” I grit my teeth. No way. I want to make it big. I want them to be able to see me—a professional dancer whom they can trust and hire. Besides, I’m already aware of the bane of us artists. The fault of one of us somehow becomes the conclusion that all of us are unreliable, miserable, and screwed. And then there they go, the idea of us being inferior just because of our field of study, or assuming I choose what I do because I can’t count.

I do not say anything after that. I simply lock my phone, thus forcefully ending the conversation with Coirpre, before shoving it into one of those tiny surreal pants pockets. No way. Nooo waayyy. As if mocking me and rubbing salt into a wound, the gym building slowly emerges into my line of sight. _Crusader’s Ward_ , it says, written in bright red under a black placate, exuding this image of toughness just like the serif fonts they used.

… Anyway, out of topic, but I notice red is considered masculine now, because if a guy wants to appear fancy but holding a grudge against metallic blue, somehow it has to be red or flame-orange over a black base.

The gym’s _mens sana in corpore sano_ tagline, written in yellow (see!) somehow feels like a jerk’s smile laughing at me. Good. No doubt now that I’m truly at the wrong part of the park. After running a little bit more I can see the neon plate which bears ‘Tirnanog’ on it—only this time the lamps are turned off because it’s early. So Tirnanog’s back side faces the back side of Crusader’s Ward, huh? Convenient! And how come I’m not aware after enrolling at Jugdral-U for about two years now?

… And just my luck again.

“Come on, consider that, will you? I’ve had my adventures and this time my mom would like me to be home and catch up with what I missed.”

“I’m not sure, Diarmuid. I’ve never done that before.”

“Bro. It’s not sex. They are desperate. And if desperation does not motivate you enough to handle it, then… money? I know you are not _that_ money-resistant.”

“Sounds like sex.”

I stop. Sex bro has this blond hair with what looks like upper-swipe mullet. He dons some band shirt with ripped jeans, and there’s a chain poking out of his pocket. And the one he is conversing with is… Mufasa.

Him again? DID I DO SOMETHING ABHORRENT IN MY PREVIOUS LIFE OR WHAT?!

“I did some programs abroad for a year, you know,” sex bro says to Mufasa. “I left Nanna alone when Mom started the business. I wasn’t there when Uncle Eldie was ill. Wasn’t there when… everything happened. Now that I’m back from my homestay, au pair, and junior journalists across borders program it will be only fair to help Mom with the shop. I heard Instagram brought the shop to fame.”

“Yeah,” Mufasa gestures to sex bro, patting his shoulder. “I’ll think about it then. Lions have each other.”

“Kind of scary that you cracked a joke,” the other blond guy chuckles.

“Indeed,” I mutter out of reflex.

Crap. Capslock-crap CRAP!

Both of them now look at me.

“Uh, you know this girl?” the one called Diarmuid sticks his thumb at me from Mufasa’s side. “Hold on. You kind of look familiar. Have we ever met or something? Perhaps Tirnanog.”

“It can be. Well, almost all Jugdral-U folks hang out there, right?” I nod. It’s not like I want to sound callous on purpose or anything. I’m cautious, but it does not mean that I don’t want a male friend. After all, having a genuine one will be nice. At least there’s one true nice guy there who sees me as a person. And there is truth in what I said, really—Tirnanog is our sanctuary, no matter what clique you are from or if you are the university’s queen. Or in my case queen of the damned perhaps. Not that I’m making a pact with the devil, but perhaps I’ve said “Damn!” too often than my own liking.

I digress. Anyway, I’m considering to make a pact with the devil now.

“Haha, yeah, true! Perhaps exactly why everyone starts to look familiar to me. But hey, I was not here for a year. So either that, or my brain goes completely goldfish,” Diarmuid chuckles.

“Come to think of it, you remind me of someone I know.” But really! And I don’t mean Kungfu Mufasa over there, although admittedly there is something in their faces which kind of look… similar, I have to say. Like, I can’t really fathom which, to be specific, but at a glance there is this “Oh,” feeling about them. Perhaps it’s the hair since they are both blondes. Haha, perhaps blondes tend to look the same.

… I think I just fell victim to the same poor joke that doomed Marilyn Monroe.

“Huh? Interesting,” the cheerier blonde then extends his arm toward me. “I’m Diarmuid. Just got back here from abroad by the way. Public health major. You are?”

“Lene. Performing arts major. I’m a dancer,” I tell him in a rather careful manner. If only I did not have these annoying experiences that I have to be like, gauging the water when introducing myself. And having to brace for the possibility being sassed or laughed at because of who I am. Some people already collectively lose their decency when meeting an art major. In a way, performing arts major feels like a double sin.

“Hold on. Did you say Lene?” Kungfu Mufasa cuts in.

“Yes! Why?”

“Are you sure?”

“… Of course?” I look at him. He is so odd! Of course it is my name!

“And a dancer?” he continues.

“Yes?” I huff. What’s with him? “… Or do you have certain opinion about that as well…”

“No. Of course not. I did not expect—no, I mean no insult,” he quickly retracts, making a withdrawing gesture like literally, he is taking a step back behind Diarmuid! Did he want to run away or something? Won’t work. First thing first, he is taller than Diarmuid. What will he cover his ass—okay—face with?

What if he’s just too polite to insult me? Not insulting me does not always equal to not harboring a certain opinion about my major and career choice.

“I think I saw one of your gigs before I left. Truly awesome!” Diarmuid says, making me peek at him from under my lashes because… seriously? Did he truly mean what he said?

I chuckle along with him, sensing that his unreservation with me and not making any comment about my major may indicate that he is a nice person. Kind of a bit sad that a little bit of decency feels like heaven, isn’t it? But that aside, if anything it sounds that he is a sociable person. He has that kind of charm I can see—something akin to a person who has many friends and quick to adjust in any crowd.

“You frequented Tirnanog?” Mufasa chimes in again.

“Yeah! Living the life, baby,” Diarmuid grins. “Oh, sorry. Forgot you’re an angry, dark brooding nerd.”

Mufasa scowls. “That baby-faced asshole will be there. I’m not looking for trouble… for now.”

“Not angry you said,” Diarmuid shakes his head. “Well, is this girl your friend or…”

There is this similar faint smile on the other blonde’s face as the corner of his mouth twitches again. His eyes light a bit, and I can’t help but thinking there is something mischievously leonine in the manner he does that. Subtle, but still there. And with it I sense doom. This guy must be the Pale Rider, all that is missing will just be a black horse. “I know her,” he says, his voice is rather low like he is cooing. Dangerously cooing, mind you. “It’s the girl who screamed so loud from last night. We—“

He does not have the chance to finish his sentence because—

… I really have no idea where I got the inspiration, b-but the truth is my hand just acts on its own and reflexively travels to…

… His mullet.

I yank it.

I pull his hair.

He stops talking; looking at me in this truly, truly bewildered expression as his mouth gapes.

And so does the other blonde. “Wow,” he mutters. But rather than something akin to feeling horrified, he appears to be… impressed? He is now making this slow clapping gesture that it is almost comical. It reminds me of that ancient millennial proverb to convey adoration—‘beat me up and I’ll say thanks’.

“Uh—“ my own act startles me. “The west part of this park is this way, right?”

I probably should find something better to say. But we can’t always have everything.

“Huh? No? This direction will take you back to the campus,” Diarmuid looks at me, confused. “If you came from that direction, you should just follow the trail instead of turning here.”

“So you are lost,” Mufasa speaks again. This time it is not just light those eyes reflect—a grin. The audacity! The blondicity! It’s still subtle, but compared to prior the mischief is stronger this time. I know it. “I guess it cannot be helped,” he shakes his head while mindlessly throwing his mullet behind his shoulder. Those golden strands easily loosely fall to frame his face, back to their initial position.

“Yeah, sorry it can’t be helped, Inhumanely Strong Asshole From Last Night! I’m late and…”

“Late? Plan B?” Diarmuid interjects with a snicker.

“No,” Kungfu Mufasa smiles at him while not-so-kindly lands a chop against the back of his head. Diarmuid merely grins though, like he expected it yet he courageously proceeded anyway. These two have to be close then. “So you want to get to the other side…”

“It sounds ominous!” I reflexively cut in. I make a mental note to ask Diarmuid if Mufasa is indeed human because he is just so… quirky like that. Do they teach kungfu in Mars?

Diarmuid’s grin breaks into a boisterous laughter in no time as he makes a finger gun gesture at me.

“… Then I’ll take you.”

“No, thank you. Despite everything and meeting you, I still love life,” I snort.

“I’ll drive you is what I’m saying.”

“… You will what?” I look at him again. He looks resolved. And tall. And shiny—with the reflection of sun framing his hair like a halo. … And _kind_ now that his mischievous smirks and smiles are gone.

“Circle out of here by following this driveway. This way we will get there from the front so you do not have to walk compared to returning you to that bench you seated yourself in prior.”

“… For real?”

Mufasa’s eyes soften as he speaks. “Take a picture of my plate number if it makes you feel safer.”

It is Diarmuid who nods this time. “My cousin is a dork but he does what he says he will.”

Cousin? Oh, I see. That explains the similar hair color, I guess. And some facial features. More importantly I guess that is why the atmosphere between them feels warm and close.

Before I know it, I tail him from behind. He still carries his way in the same manner I witnessed the other day—long quiet strands. He glances at me, prompting me to stop out of reflex. Maybe because I’m too stunned to say anything, he resumes walking so we do not waste time further by being idle.

I catch up with him, almost bumping against his shoulders as I rush from behind.

… Then I notice he has been walking slower after looking at me like that. I am now walking beside him instead of following him from behind. We walk some more in silence, tracing the blocks which bring us to the gym’s parking lot. As we approach closer, Mufasa casually takes out his key out of his pocket, holding it in his clasped palm.

I did not hear car key beeping when he did that, however.

I stop when he does. We are now facing a big bike—looks rather antique and Steampunk-ish, even—only that it appears to be in a prime condition like new because the paintjob looks fresh. It is black in color with gold lining motifs, similar to various line shapes decorating antique wooden shelf or carriage.

... Wow. Just wow.

First thing first, Kungfu Mufasa probably has a color he is not-so-lowkey obsessed with. Second, I probably should not be surprised that _he_ is full of surprises considering the mullet and now antique bike.

“I don’t have something fancy though,” he says, gesturing me to wait while he goes into the parking line to push the motorcycle out of the allocated space. Perhaps he senses that I’m surprised?

… Somehow I feel ashamed. There is this little urging at the corner of my heart that softly nudges me. He seems sincere. No tricks. No flowery invitation which is not more than a code for Netflix and chill. His tone is rather apologetic, like he feels kind of awkward that he has to make _me_ riding a motorcycle instead of driving an actual car. And of course, on top of that he does not actually need to drive me. Either he or his cousin can just point out the direction to me, and for us to be on our ways because it seems they were having a conversation where he appeared to consider a serious offer. Judging from Diarmuid’s conversation I accidentally heard, the two just met after a year of Diarmuid’s international pursuits. Still, he is willing to drive me.

… And of course, I yanked his mullet.

“It is alright,” I reply, aware that my voice is softer now. “I’m actually surprised! Because I don’t see this kind of bike often, you know? I picture usually it is rich old men who are into this hobby.”

“Well, that isn’t wrong,” he responds, inserting the key and begins to ignite the machine. The corner of his mouth twitches again, forming a pleasant faint smile. I feel guilty. He acts sheepish like he’s glad I’m not sassing his mount like that. He shouldn’t be. “When I saw this one, I immediately knew it could work nicely with a bit of effort. My mother teased me I nursed it like it was my own child.”

“You restored it yourself?” I gasp.

The bike is out of the line now, and he is searching for something when his reply comes out. “Yeah. I don’t do much besides working here and there, so…” he shrugs. “I just cleaned it first and re-oiled some parts. Did a test drive, did a speed test, replaced its corroded gears. The usual.”

He makes it sound so simple. “That’s… a hard work,” I mumble.

“Really? I wasn’t thinking much. If anything, I Googled a lot to find out cheap spare parts and all that. To see if this one corresponds to a more recent bike type I can use as a base to work on,” he is still not facing me because he is now taking something from the little hooked part at the bike’s front body.

He sounds so… flat when talking about his rehabilitation efforts. I mean—I picture many other guys will take this chance to flaunt. After all, usually they will want you to know when they have green hands with machine! But Kungfu Mufasa is just… flat. Matter of factly-flat. If he is proud of something, to me his answer more like conveys that he is glad the bike can run again.

“It looks great,” I return his sincerity with the same courtesy. He deserves it.

“Still need to have the potential overheating checked though,” he holds up something in his hand to me.  

A helmet.

“Um… what about you?” I let his hand hanging.

“I’m good,” he nods at me again. “I’ve got no other helmet, sorry about that. Usually my only passengers are my mom’s deliveries.”

“If you’ve got no other, shouldn’t you be the one wearing it?” I frown.

“Well, this time I’ve got a passenger.”

… I swear to God he does sound nice this time. The way he says it reminds me of something that gently tickles you. It may be subtle, but it is there. And you can’t help but noticing it.

He does not say anything as we ride. Nope, he does not ask for my number, does not pull a chit-chat even with school-related stuff as a prelude. The only thing he asks is whether I know Diarmuid—to which I honestly say that I do not pay attention to my audience. I mean, I do, but it’s not like I _scan_ them or anything. When I mention I go to Tirnanog to hang out and chill like most others do—and recently kind of befriending a nice barista called Seliph, he grows quiet.

“Nice?” he asks as if making sure I just said that.

“Yes!” I nearly shout in his ear because we are talking while riding. “He is so polite. Rather goofy at times. Kind of… honestly? Reminds me of you. He makes great drinks you know, people like him well that sometimes it’s hard to catch him around because he is always busy.”

“We are not alike.”

The previously friendlier attitude took a sharp turn. He growls under his breath like a raging lion, and it startles me. Did I say something wrong? I merely told him Seliph makes great drinks, and if Kungfu Mufasa will take time to survey literally almost everyone who frequents Tirnanog, he’ll see it is true!

“Oh, alright then. Sure you aren’t. He’s all smiles while you are all brooding,” I roll my eyes. He does not say anything else. I know he can tell I’m being half-sarcastic there, but… come on, he can’t be sulking!

He _truly_ does not say anything else!

The ride is short because we only need to circle the park to get to the other side. I tap his shoulder lightly upon seeing a couple of girls sitting at a gazebo near water fountain because my intuition tells me it’s the girls I need to coach. He simply nods, stops the bike and then slightly tilts it so I can get off without a hassle.

 “Thank you,” I whisper. My fingers somewhat tremble when I take off the helmet to return to him. This feels so awkward. He appears so brooding—there is this unsettling silence about him that his entire demeanor comes off… _gruff._ And for a moment I feel foolish. What am I doing? Why do I even bother to strike a conversation with him? I’m not even supposed to get all friendly with him—he is an oddball. There is something about him I can’t fathom, like… he is not evil, but at the same time he also feels rather… unusual that it’s like everything I know about handling people—or boys—pales in comparison.

I am about to raise my hand to wave at the gazebo girls, but his gloved hands fiddle with the bike’s handlebar. M-maybe he grows impatient because it takes some time for me to take the helmet off and tidy my hair. “S-sorry. I—I’ve never ridden a bike before. Sorry,” my voice comes out muffled when returning the helmet to him. Why am I like this? Why do I feel overwhelmed somehow?

“… Lene?”

“Ah! W-what?” startled, I jolt.

“Lene with the Lene as a real name?” he reiterates, taking the helmet I’m handing to him. The rounded thing is now rested on his thigh as the flowing breeze plays with his mullet. I wonder why he looks surprised again. It’s like he’s testing to say my name? Why is he surprised?

“Ah! … Ah, yes. Yes, it is Lene…” I clutch my backpack, pressing it against my chest.

“Girl Who Screamed So Loud indeed,” he shakes his head again.

“U-um…” out of reflex I clasp my lips. My cheeks feel burning…

“Lene,” he repeats. “I’m not angry. Neither am I at you.”

… Oh?

“Anyway, makeup remover can be ignited to scare off offenders. You only need a lighter and some time.”

“… Pardon?”

“The one you showed me,” leonine smirk is back in the house now. “Sephora’s Instagram, wasn’t it?”

… Gods be damned. Blond hair be damned. I really want to know who he is just so I can nail a straw doll with his name into a tree! Aaaarrrghhh!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah sorry not sorry for using Amalda's iconic line in the game |D


	3. How Brazen

I don’t remember how I survived Saturday, but all I can say is that the coaching went well. I have sweet four middle-schoolers trying to learn cheering and choreography from me, and I’m pretty excited with what is about to come.

… Alright, when I first arrived they asked if I’m indeed the new coach because they… thought I was a middle-schooler! Siiigh. When I said no, they elevated my status to… a high-schooler. Hashtag honored, hashtag fuck you I age backward, hashtag… short. Sigh times three.

My pupils are a bunch of girls with interesting personalities—first there’s Sara, and oooh gods she is so pretty. She has this long beautiful silvery-purple hair which makes me green with envy!! Some people are so blessed with beautiful natural-everything that they don’t even know it. She is rather shy and quiet, but I can see that she is absorbing what I’m telling her like a sponge.

The other girl, Karin, has green hair like mine—instant bonding achieved! … A little biased, but at least I won’t feel like a tree anymore. And more importantly, not a single tree in the realm of beauty. Karin is enthusiastic and determined, so I’m thinking of pairing her with Sara next time.

There is the energetic Miranda, and her eyes are so _fiery._ Like, if you tell her the cup noodles you are making is too hot to be savored yet, I won’t doubt she’ll down it while you writhe in agony watching her because she likes a good challenge. The positive side, though, she seems to _love_ challenges. The negative part? She probably takes what I relayed to them as a challenge. I mean, I’m building a dance team here, not a loyal Amazon squad who has to be ready to fight to the death!

And then there is Tinny. I specially thanked her for telling me that I showed up at the wrong side at the park. For ice breaker I asked if she knew Coirpre, and she began to warm up to me by talking about him. I am glad Coirpre found a friend! She was the first to approach him when my dear little brother stood alone at the school’s cafeteria not knowing where to sit. Ah, the pain of being a new kid…

So, I have my team there. The girls’ personalities contradict each other, and I brace myself for that too. Beautiful puberty. Beautiful personalities which may want to see the world burn even though the girls themselves don’t. I’m ready. My own squad consists of different girls with different passions anyway, so who says girls have to fight each other just because we are different?

“Ooomigosh, Coach. Do you have Instagram? Gotta follow each other,” Karin chirped then. “Anyway, I love your shoelaces!”

“Why, thank you! And sure, what’s your ID again?” I quickly draw my phone out of my pocket.

“It fits,” she breaths, like it’s the most magnificent thing she has ever seen so far. “And wow, rose gold!”

“Of course! Convenient and cute, right?” perhaps I’ve been smirking too wide, too proud that I must look like a monstrous hunted ventriloquist doll instead. But… why won’t I? Mwahahaha!

“Where do you shop?” I tilt my head to see Miranda lingering closer to us. She looks so curious now that it’s cute. I instantly feel guilty because I _almost_ forgot that she is still a teenage girl regardless how fiery she is. And now she looks at me with such hopeful eyes.

I won’t let you down! I love these girls so much and I’ll be your coach, your big sister, the person you can trust, aaaaa—

… Okay, perhaps that’s too zealous of me.

(But still.)

“Some things are best when you create them yourselves, Miranda!” I wink at her. “So, yes! I made them. I sewed them! And the rose gold phone was a Black Friday sale on Amazon.”

“Wow,” she mutters again. “I’m not sure if I can do that. Not cute enough to sew.”

“You can! Why are you dancing here, all of you, if you are not cute?” I wink at her again.

So, that’s practically how my first time with them went. I think I have to say I was pretty relieved they welcomed me with open hands. More importantly, they seemed to be eager learning from me, so I vowed to myself not to disappoint them. Yeah, win or lose, let’s give our best fight there!

Anyway! It was agreed that I’d coach the girls about two times a week, three if they need extra drill and depending on whether the training will be demanding or not. And Thracia Academy _forgot_ to tell them my number, which is why Tinny needed Coirpre to contact me as if she tried to buy some weed from a middleman. Sigh. Gods, how many times have I done that today? Thankfully we have each other on Instagram now, and I can probably build up my portfolio even further by posting my videos coaching these girls in the near future. That, and the CV I sent to some clubs and theaters…

Of course the other positive side is that communicating with the internet means I can save more money I might have to allocate for my phone bill. … Sigh, times four now. Gods, if only money was not so hard…

Monday and Tuesday practically went undetected to me because everything proceeds normally as usual. You know, with all these tight schedules and all that, I nearly lost track of date and day to begin with. Baaad, I know, considering as flexible as I may be, I’m still calendar-bound. Because if I squeeze a gig here and there chances are I’ll need to juggle other things. My coursework and school stuff start to hammer me in the Achilles heel as well because after the paper I completed with Larcei, art classes do not stop at the stage.

Lesson learned: Achilles, don’t wear heels!

… Sigh. Why do I imagine Ishtar’s trio laughing at me and calling me stupid…

Speaking of school, I start to suspect if my life takes a sadistic pleasure playing me because I saw Kungfu Mufasa again a couple of times since then. This ‘a couple of times’ is probably an understatement, though, because—first thing first, he seems to be there almost each time I go to the sports hall when I want to practice or test new choreography. Usually I do some stretching to lube those muscles…

… Sorry, that sounds weird. But yeah—I stretch, and faintly play my music or tape my headphones to my temples if there are other people around so that I don’t disturb them. And then I dance.

Kungfu Mufasa will be there, alone as he typically is. Usually he will be at the hall, silently lingering into the lockers room. Whatever he wears that day, he will always come out in what appears to be a pair of comfortable lightweight cotton pants and a black sash encircling his waist. And there will be a body-hugging sleeveless shirt to match them with. Usually there will be a pretty considerable distance which separates us, with my back facing his. And I… commonly pretend to not see him coming. During one of those occasions where we accidentally lock eyes, he will respectfully nod at me without saying anything either before proceeding to do whatever he does.

 _So stay away from me_  
_The beast is ugly_  
_I feel the rage  
_ _And I just can't hold it_

Lingering behind him to grab the towel I dumped on my bag after finishing a cartwheel, I thought I could faintly catch his own music player blaring through his Bluetooth headphones when he pauses after completing push-up reps. Skrillet’s _Monster_? Really? What a brooding dork.

I caught him running around campus one more time, again with a phone in hand. He is playfully karate-chopping Diarmuid again, his phone in hand like back then. He mumbles a thing or two about being late, and yes, he’s got the delivery already, but his class detained him longer than usual so he’d do it now.

… Do what? Deliveries? Why must he sound like a mob boss? What if his mother is a mafia princess?!

Kungfu Mufasa opens the big, four-quadrant window we have in this building, his eyes warily glancing to the ground where he parks his motorcycle. He looks around, and before I know it he JUMPS!

“Noooo!”

Out of reflex I immediately rush to the stairs. Thank the gods for my dancer legs because I can run faster. This is the second floor, mind you, and that asshole just jumped out of the window like that?!

I manage to catch up with him. By then he’s already sitting on his mount, pushing his key in. He looks incredibly surprised when he finds me there, panting, and upon seeing me, he stops his machine.

“What was that?!” I query him. Perhaps I shouldn’t yell, but…

I thought he would sneer at me, because it seems he’s _used_ to do that. I don’t care if he does. I don’t care if he is late as he muttered he was. That was dangerous. Dangerous…

“I’m running late,” he nods at me again. “Sorry for making you scream again.”

“Don’t say that!” out of reflex I shout at him. “What if you got injured?!” And that line. Gods!

He stands there, again looking incredibly surprised. “… What if I got injured, you said?”

“Yes? I mean—of course?!” my hands are on my hips now. Inhaling again because I literally _stormed_ downstairs to get him, something starts clicking then. He sounds… so apathetic about himself! Like…

“… Ah,” he says that again. “I’ll be mindful next time. Sorry for troubling you this much.”

I want to shrug it off, but I run into him again that afternoon on the way to coach the girls from Thracia. He is leaving a minimarket with a can of beer in his hand… and then rushes inside again. The next thing I know is that he’s holding the door for an elderly woman who carries a plastic bag with her.

Alright, no big deal, I thought again. But he keeps walking, and before I know it, he’s been strolling with her, this time her bag is in his other hand as he holds her hand to cross the street. By then I’m already on my way to the park, and our eyes meet again. He simply nods at me without saying anything, this time digging his hand into his pocket and secretly places a coin of a quarter on an ice cream parlor’s counter.

I did not know what he did that for, but my curiosity is short-lived because I can hear the kid who queues for a banana split gladly announces she has enough for the ice cream her friends are getting. This feels so surreal. So, so surreal …. I land a glance at him again, but he simply smiles a little and leaves.

The next time I’m at the sports hall, I can see him taking his typical corner as always—close to the corridor heading to the men’s locker room. He’s already moving back and forth, and from behind it’s almost like he’s dancing.

… What if he’s a dancer? You know what, perhaps I should just do that—put his name in Jugdral-U’s _So You Think You Can Dance_ kind of dancing competition. He’s probably going to EAT me after that, but the idea of pranking him like that gives me a sadistic pleasure. If he is a dancer and a nerd and a jock at the same time… sorry then Kungfu Mufasa, you must be a cyborg or an extraterrestrial being sent to colonize this earth. Therefore, I have to assassinate you.

Well, I was kind of thinking how to assassinate him (how? He’s strong!) as I silently walked behind him to get the rhythmic ribbons gymnasts usually use. I’ve seen some tutorial videos, and I’m pretty confident in my own flexibility because I’m a dancer. If I can incorporate rhythmic aerobic into my choreography, then perhaps I can give something new, both outside and for my classes. See, this is why I need to keep innovating. Art never dies and creating art is living as one!~

Kungfu Mufasa moves back and forth, his black sash at the waist billows as he does. He lunges then retreats—rinse and repeat a couple of times until sweat drops crown his forehead. He’s fast. And it’s almost like he doesn’t tire when he does that.

He probably thinks he has completed his reps, so he switches. First he does some stretching for his legs. It’s almost similar to what I do, like extending each leg and holding still for eight counts times two. What surprises me is that he positions his left leg behind and then moves to… kick.

Yes—kicking! I’ve never seen such stretching throughout my training as a dancer like ever. Not even ballerinas I know ever do something like that—considering their rigorous training and how much effort they put on their legs. Kungfu Mufasa swipes a kick several times with his left leg, switching position to drill his right one after what appears to be ten times of kicking or so.

Hmmm! What if it’s like this—if he’s a dancer, then he should _fight_ me. After all, I haven’t been able to make him run in wedges! And if I can defeat him in the field we both know, the annihilation is complete! He will learn soon that he can’t smirk at me looking sharp while having the audacity to be _nice_ without consequences!! Prepare for trouble, Mufasa, and I’ll make it double!!

… I should probably stop binge-watching Pokemon movies…

“Hiii, demonic blond entity~! Are you a danc—“ I lightly tap his shoulder from behind while conveying my bloodlust—ahem, challenge.  But before I know it, he turns around, so swiftly, too fast for me to catch. The leg he’s drilling in kicking practice is bent like a sideways letter L.

“What do you want?”

I can only stare. It’s like there is this shock which drains me right there, right now, sucking on my life force and turns me into a living statue. For a moment his eyes appear to be so… alert, fiercely-alert that if he confesses to be a lion or a werewolf I’ll just nod and agree. He appears so stunned and perplexed upon finding me behind him, and in a split second retracts that half-swung leg that his face bumps into…

… Oh right, a sandbag. He’s been hitting a sandbag?! And how come its color is also black?!

“… I’m not a dancer,” he responds with a coarse voice as if he just rasped. “… My apologies. Did you get hit?”

I shake my head.

“Then I’m lucky,” he takes the sandbag off its hook and disappears into the locker room. He looks so angry. So angry and ferocious that for a moment I’d think it indeed is a literal demon I'm facing. But judging from the way his eyes slowly tamed when he saw me, that means… he’s not actually meaning to attack me?

Perhaps he’s just constipated. I’ll Google if making kicking movements can help with your stomach.

I run into him again a couple of days later at school—he is swiping his hair which looks damp. It’s been raining in the morning—even from the train I commuted with to get here, I could see the pouring rain and felt the air colder. I can see Reinhardt—the prestigious rich electrical engineering major getting out of his car with his sister Olwen whom he drives to school—exchanging a short nod with him. The honest Olwen chats him up a little, and I can hear him saying he throws his leather jacket over a mother cat with three kittens near the parking lot.

Well, he does get his jacket back because it’s still there even though the cats left the area, but… 

When I talk about him with my girls—now that my other best friend Fee is with us for lunch, she says I should pay no mind to him. "That’s the alleged Black Knight, isn’t it?” she sucks on her straw, downing the soda she ordered.

“Black Knight?” I bite into my chicken. My friend Lana nods beside me, stirring her salad. Oh, gods, she is a literal angel. Always helpful and sincere… and vegan too. I'm not surprised she’s studying to be a vet.

“Oh, I’ve heard of him,” Larcei pokes on her pork ribs. “Die, you bastard.”

“Larcei, it is already dead,” Lana interrupts with her soft voice and sweet innocent expression.

“Then I’ll do it on one that is alive,” Larcei cuts her food, chewing a mouthful of it.

“Y-you… hunt for a sport?” Lana’s face starts turning green.

“No, no. Gods. Sorry,” she grins. “I mean like one of those.”

“But Larcei, those are men,” this time I speak out.

“Yeah,” she mutters casually, and we all nod in unison in a comical manner.

However what my girls told me only triggers my curiosity even more. “Black Knight, you said,” I turn at Fee, who has her phone back in her hands. “… Black Knight? Because he dresses in black?”

Fee stops playing with her phone. “I hardly even pay attention to what he wears at all,” she replies, setting her iPhone on the table. “So I don’t know? But people say he’s _scary_.”

“Scary?” I frown. Is this the same awkward, nerdy Kungfu Mufasa who rides an antique big bike and shows up with predictable clothing color? The Kungfu Mufasa who says the darndest things with a straight face and seemingly so bewildered at… basic courtesy he receives from other people?

“He gets into fights,” Larcei picks up what Fee left. “And apparently he’s good at it. Nobody who came for him ever won so far. Being that fearless and strong makes one intimidating, no?”

I can’t believe it! He does not strike me as a delinquent! “But why would he get into fights often?”

My girls exchange glances with each other, and Fee finally breaks the silence first. “Dunno. He’s aloof and brooding, I can imagine people are already scared shitless. And he’s got that scary death stare.”

“Perhaps he needs help,” Lana speaks again with a genuine concern on her face. My mind races. It can’t be, right? Someone like that, nicknamed as the Black Knight? I wish I could ask them more, but our lunch break is over so we hurriedly scatter around to attend our respective classes or get back studying.

* * *

  

I glance at my bullet journal. There is another paper due next week for my art history class. Something about the art of landscapes or buildings and how it is tied to socio-cultural question of the past and the various angles to analyze it. Phew. Sounds great? Sounds challenging? Ha, serves you right for rolling eyes at us art majors!

… Yeah, I’d so like a tongue-sticking emoji for that one.

And then there is performance art and popular culture through a historical scope for later. Both classes are taught by… well, Professor Forseti.

I do not hate-hate this professor, but he’s rather… perfectionist. Professor Lewyn Forseti is someone you’d call a national treasure on the subject of art—especially musicology, because he’s been in conservatorium probably more often than a person with diarrhea rushing to a bathroom.

… Okay, bad analogy. So crass for an artsy subject. But I stand by my words. He is a genius and pretty eccentric—first, he calls himself a wayward bard. But he does know the finest of things, and with it, his ears and eyes accept the best works his students can try themselves doing. He does not really praise people, but his snarky comments often be the voice of reason us dreamy students need. It’s like being slapped with a trout on a cold winter night but at the same time you know you need it, see?

I drag myself into the library for this noble cause—the art of landscapes or buildings and whether how they were painted speak something about certain socio-cultural factor in the past. And yes, I’m wearing my favorite wedges. Lana gave me a concerned look because I ran in them again to get to Professor Forseti’s class.

Of course Meng had to cuss me since I so deliberately took time in the bathroom trying to edit my videos before uploading them on Instagram, but… no, I didn’t feel any remorse. Consider my heart dead. She shot me dirty looks and stuck her nose up like walking near a trashcan, so it is only understandable that I profusely apologized for accidentally stepping on her open-toe kitten heels.

The library is hell.

I mean, almost literally hell. Seats are taken, tables are occupied, and STEM majors slump on the floor like they run out of oxygen while trying to vore a t-rex. I glance back and forth. I have my laptop with me. And being a peasant I don’t mind sitting on the floor like everyone else, but it’ll be nice to have a table and a chair because first—I’m wearing a cute above-knee dress; its base color is soft pink and there are some pretty little daisy motifs (pink is important!)—which I top with a white collared cardigan. I don’t want to grill my own legs because my laptop will be on my lap.

I explore the aisles, taking two books with me already. It’s an art history book, and another is something similar specifically discussing Victorian paintings. I’ll look for more when I settle down because my hands are full, and a laptop in hand makes my loads rather heavy.

My shoes make clicking sounds as I look left and right.

“Must be art major,” I hear one of the bastards—sorry, STEM lords—sitting on the floor hissing at me. “Look at her, without any worry at all. And does she think this floor is a catwalk or what?”

“You know I can _stomp on your balls_ while you are doing that, right?” I smile sweetly at him. Geez, why do these STEM lords think we do not… study?! I will not be in a _university_ if I don’t, you numbnut!

The engineering aisle is close to architecture, followed by economics. I see someone waving at me, and I smile back. It’s Leif! The business major is waving at me, and he nearly chokes on his own hair because a strand goes into his mouth for smiling too widely.

“Alone?” he mouths.

I nod.

“Sit here with us!” he smiles, waving. I see Nanna’s beautiful face beside him. She is my acquaintance whom I know from Lana. I’ve met her a couple of times because she sang or emcee’d when I danced.

I grin, shaking my hand. “Third wheel,” I raise a thumb at Leif, and he has to eat his own hair again after contracting instant red face. Meanwhile Nanna waves at me too, blissfully unaware of everything.

“Girl,” she whispers, gesturing to my dress and my wedges, then to my laptop.

“I know, right,” I sigh. And with the Look exchanged between us, she let me go. Perhaps for the better, because I begin eyeing the architecture aisle thinking I’d find what I need there.

And just my luck—no sarcasm this time—there _is_ an empty seat! Aaaa, blessing is real, God is real!

I rush there before another weary library-traveler snatches it in front of me. The same STEM lord glares at me because my shoes make their runway walk and damage his ears, apparently. “My name is Lene and I know you don’t want me to change it into _Dongstomper_ ,” I glare at him back.

He shudders. Good. Let men shudder.

Huffing, I pull a vacant chair out of that leftover desk, setting my things on the table. Come to think of it, it’s pretty weird. I mean… why don’t people want this one? And there’s only one chair left too, alone, solo, YOLO—I mean, one chair, on one long single table like this? Hmmm, perhaps today people are having group projects or grouped study sessions at the same time? How curious…

“Aah!” I gasp when my phone flies out of my hand. … Sigh. I forgot the nonexistent _dress_ pockets.

I rush forward without thinking, my hand readying to snatch it back before it flies to hurt anyone—or bumps against one of those old, sturdy bookshelves in front of me. My things are scattered on the table—good that it’s a long single table, but…

… I realize I’m not alone.

Either my luck is as dry as the last dinosaur’s uterus or life truly, truly has some schadenfreude kink against me because I see a familiar figure—face!! Face, I say!—sitting in front of me.

… Right. Kungfu Mufasa! Kungfu Mufasa and his insolent, outdated, _beautiful lustrous_ blond mullet—

He catches my phone before I do. “Oops.” He says, his eyes barely leaving the book he is reading.

And I gloriously land on the table. My face directly facing his; it’s so comical I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or claw _this handsome asshole_ because practically my eyes are in line with his, and it’s almost like I’m down to smooch him!

“U-umm…”

“Ah, the Girl Who Screams So Loud again?” he mutters indifferently, his tone being as flat as his abs.

(… Hold on.)

“It’s Lene,” I glare at him.

“It seems to me that you are always screaming whenever I’m with you.”

“You—do you have the knack of saying the _darndest SHIT_ with a straight face?!” I huff, quickly peeling myself off the table and take the seat.

“Your phone?” he gestures.

I nod.

“It’s safe,” he passes Rose—alright, it’s rose gold, alright?!—over the table to me. Somehow my phone looks so small in his hand…

“Thanks,” I begrudgingly respond, parting my laptop’s lid to begin studying.

“And you are?”

“… Me?” I stop at an instant.

He nods earnestly. “Yes. I do mean you.”

… I truly did not expect that, but then again he always surprises me, it seems. “I’m alright.”

“Then good.”

… OMG. “Y-you smiled!!” Perhaps I shouldn’t _gasp_ loudly like that…

“… Of course I can smile?” he frowns. “I’m human, you know.”

Well, I was curious if he did the night I met him. And then he smirked when I met him again, but I did not expect to see how tender he can be when he genuinely smiled like that. And I have to admit, it was nicer than I thought. “… I almost thought you were a lion demon.”

… I blurted it. Gods. Fuck me.

“… A lion?”

He isn’t even concerned at all about the demon part.

“Alright, allegedly! I mean. I mean—you know, after that night I thought you did not even have a face—“

… Great, just great. I’m stupid. Stupid, stupid, stu—

“Well, I have. Inspect it as you wish,” he points at his own nose. … This fucking nerd, I swear.

 “Wow, glad you’re not a ghost. Or a shapeshifting lion. I don’t know how to talk to one. I _hate_ Twilight.”

“Twilight?”

I wait for him to call me dumb—to sneer, to make sarcastic comments but…

He chuckles. Gods—he chuckles. “I agree. That pie-faced Edward is a creep.”

“S-so you can laugh too,” I begrudgingly point at him. “Hold on—you _watched_ Twilight?”

“Yes,” he deadpans, but I can find a twinkle in his eyes. “My cousin dragged me when it aired so I went with her to watch it. Sometimes one does not have a choice.”

“I bet you told her you thought Edward was creepy,” I mutter.

“No,” he smiles a little in a manner as if what I just said equals to having tickled him in the ribs. “But I taught her a thing or two about making a man miserable in two minutes, just in case.”

“You have a mullet. You’re not the one to call Edward Cullen pie-faced,” I counter. It’s hard to pretend that I agree with what my friends said he is—I mean… he did not even shit-talk his _female_ cousin for making him watch that movie. _That_ _kind_ of movie. And he still ensured her safety while managing to respectfully keep his opinion about the movie to himself. But… a blood-thirsty Black Knight? Really?

“You’ve got a point,” he responds. “So… studying?” this time he points at my stuff.

I nod. “You too as well?” … Good. It’s obvious, right? Duh!

“Ah, yes. I’m lagging in theories because lately I did not have time to read,” he returns his gaze to the book he is reading. “I’m not really a theory guy. Applied aspects are more interesting to me.”

“You are…” I peek into the book, “… an architecture major?”

“Landscape,” he mutters, scribbling something onto his notebook. “I concentrate on urban planning.”

Landscape architecture major with a passion for urban planning. That does not sound like… a delinquent to me. I mean—I’m not to judge people’s majors because shit happens, alright—but the image of a so-called Black Knight who enjoys fighting and gleefully obliterates his opponents… and then someone who is catching up on the coursework he thinks he is worst at… really? This is the monster they talked about?

I read my own notes, rereading what I took from Professor Forseti’s last class. He had raised an interesting question back then—how classical paintings may or may not proportionally depict their objects or subjects because of the painter’s biases, which may root in the socio-cultural aspects of their time. He asked us whether all these academia schools, whatever you call it—was actually fueled by the zeitgeist of the period or something else. He said it was not about symbolism, because whether blue was actually blue-blue was a tiring debate. He asked if what was painted was indeed what it aimed to.

“Are you saying whether the paintings are like, racist or something, Professor?” Larcei asked then.

Professor Forseti snickered. “It’s up to you to find out, Dozel. Spoiler alert—yes,” he said in a casual manner as if we just asked him whether his sandwich contained ham in it. “But give me a _why_.”

So here I am, trying to arm myself to the bones for Professor Forseti’s assignments. He seems laid back, but anyone thinking he can be fooled is in for an ugly surprise. And I was thinking whether the architecture aisle had what I’d need. Hmmm, perhaps I should try history shelves instead?

I look around. It’s more about buildings… and I’ve seen like five books covering Antoni Gaudi there. But fortunately for me, something catches my attention— _Eléments de Perspective Practique_ by Pierre-Henri de Valenciennes is on one of the top shelves! I imagine the book tempting me the way Alice in _Alice in Wonderland_ finds the _Eat Me_ cake. The book appears old and probably has never been touched for a long while. … Like me. Sobs…

W-well! Ahem. Still, glad to find de Valenciennes there! Based on the class, he did argue that landscape is worthy enough to be seriously studied in the academia, as worthy as historical paintings. But he emphasized that to be aesthetically ideal, a landscape painting has to bear a so-called historic landscape element, which itself should be based on real nature. Now, now, won’t it be interesting to dissect whether this ‘ideally aesthetic’ is even ideal and aesthetic in the first place? Besides, whose vision it reflected again—and what class, considering the book was out in 1800?

I’m ready. I’m sooo ready. I’ll just get someone who can read French probably and enslave them for a while to help me understanding the book. Hmmm, Seliph is very smart. So is Leif. Seliph is a law major, so I won’t be surprised if he can actually sass people in style in many languages. Leif probably eats his own hair every now and then, but he is by no means a dumb sausage. Ah, if only my apartment had a basement. That makes a good way to entrap a Francophone! Hmmm, anyone knows a pizza delivery man who speaks French? Asking for a friend!

Oh, wait, snap a photo. You know, perhaps the internet can connect me with a smart person!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Great find @ the library! Pierre-Henri de Valenciennes’ “Eléments de Perspective Practique”. Study time! Anyone read French tho? ;))_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _Je veux t'embrasser **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Ew IDK what you said bro, but you again, GTFO **@ratedexplicitonao3**_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _Wow that one’s old **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Prof F talked it like two weeks ago btw I wish I wasn’t 5’2” -_- **@larceiheyhey**_

 ** _ratedexplicitonao3_** _Such a mouth M’lady what else does that one do? ;)) **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Omg I don’t want anything to do w/ you dude give up **@ratedexplicitonao3**_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _Lol really? You didn’t even block me, enjoying this aren’t you **@dancedancerebellion**_

Anyway—that book may equal an adult virgin, but how the heck did it get to be placed so high?! Ladder, ladder, ladder…

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _I want to kiss you **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _REINHARDT OMFG WYD OMG SRSLY **@thunderingwithpride**_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _Hmm? I was just translating **@dancedancerebellion**_

… Oh my God. And wait. Can it be that Reinhardt knows French? Perhaps I can ask for his help! He’s actually nice. Too serious at times, perhaps, but he and Ishtar are probably among the few of those posh kids who treat us ~peasants~ better. Maybe I can try. After all, Reinhardt is not a bad person.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Do you speak French, Reinrein~? Can I ask you things **@thunderingwithpride**_

 ** _notmaybelline_** **_@dancedancerebellion_** _appears smart because Instagram divas HATE being called vapid_

Yes, I’m sorry for not having the money to enroll myself in a language course. Or the time to self-teach. Because when someone hates being called names it _has_ to mean the names fit, right?

Fuming, I return to my seat. Perhaps the internet can yield better results and I’ll just put that book as a reference including the webpage which explains what I need to know. I’m getting a bit impatient now that Google Chrome is still loading. Sliding my phone closer to me, I make a mental note to finally update some of the videos I’ve been taking for the past few days but have not because I’ve been busy.

I was about to type _classical landscape paintings and_ when Google suggested me something else. My brows knit significantly as I frown, reading what it is— _casual._ Yes, the first word was casual. I did not look anything with such keyword lately, so out of curiosity I follow suit by retyping it again.

_Casual side jobs._

Huh?

_Casual side jobs for teens under 16._

… What?

My laptop beeps a warning when I try to delete a number of older dancing videos I edited last night.

_You need administrator’s permission to delete these files._

Administrator…

I check. Wow, I accidentally logged on Guest Account instead of my own, where I’m the admin! I quickly log off, relog-on with my own account. My username and avatar show up, so I type in my password. I’m not satisfied. After successfully deleting the files I tried prior, I check on my Chrome’s history.

_McDonald’s minimum hiring age._

_Summer jobs for teens 16 and under._

_How to fake your age._

_List of retails hiring teenagers?_

That—can’t be. I let out a sigh out of reflex. Gods, please don’t. Please—

_How risky is it to sell and buy weed_

My mind is full. Coirpre was the last one to use Google on my laptop. Science project, right? These have to be spam or weird adverts. Or perhaps Coirpre needs something different for his science project.

_Science project ideas without volcano_

… Alright then, no volcanoes. Sigh.

Since Instagram is open on another window, perhaps I’ll just check if Reinhardt replies. Or—I don’t know, anyone else kind enough to tell me about this book. I need to process this. I need to… ease my mind.

 **_etluxintenebrislucet_ ** _Just got my tests back :) great lunch with **@tinnyyymagic**_

 **_windrider @etluxintenebrislucet_ ** _Wow that’s TASTY_

 **_etluxintenebrislucet @windrider_ ** _Wow n-never thought you’d like them Ced YES my sister cooked it!_

Coirpre’s account…

Hold on. So this was indeed Coirpre’s. He forgot to log out. So… those search terms?

 **_raydriknotraydick  
_ ** _You said you wanna work?_

 **_etluxintenebrislucet  
_ ** _I-is this Mr. Raydrik from the Conote Restaurant?_

I should stop. I don’t feel that it’s right, snooping on Coirpre like this—albeit accidental. But all these things he searched on Google… and what’s this again—a Mister Raydrik I know nothing about?

 ** _raydriknotraydick_** _Raydrik Conote. Enterpreneur. Future belongs to the unhesitant. Carpe noctem._

I Googled Conote Restaurant.

 **_r/AMA_ ** _Call me Mareeta. Former server at Conote Restaurant here, ask me anything._

Show me the light, Reddit!

“Lene?”

I gasp instantly, knocking de Valenciennes I just got from the shelf straight to the floor.

“Oh…”

But before I can do anything else, Kungfu Mufasa’s blond head swirls a bit as he bends down to pick it up.

“Um—“

And then I notice he tilts his head in a way so that his face is not facing my legs under the table.

“Everything alright?” he picks himself up, setting the book on our table.

… Our table. Yeah, we practically have it for ourselves now.

“Do I look troubled?” I finally decided to just laugh it a little. All smiles and laughter. Us dancers are supposed to be a bunch of joyful bundles, where everything is fun and easy. Strange, the more I think of it, the gloomier I suddenly feel. Whether everything alright, huh… I mean, sure, everything is not alright. I haven’t gotten paid because no avenue has given me a call back. With the meager wage I got for coaching those Thracian girls, perhaps it’s time to tighten our waistbands and pray that there are some humanely edible foods I can scrape from the bottom of my fridge. I haven’t had the courage to sail night clubs again ever since the mugging incident, and I’m too embarrassed to tell him these things.

We are not friends! And he’s supposed to be only some brooding odd nerd I met by accident.

… But I can’t remember when the last time someone—let alone, a man—asked me whether I was alright. And just like that—so sincere and loose, after being chivalrous enough to mind where his face is even though I probably won’t even care if he looks. I mean, I can brush it off as accidental. But he…

“Hmmm. I don’t want to assume,” he speaks after giving a thought. “But you had… similar dark expression like my mother had when she found out my father got into an accident. Sad and shocked.”

“Your father got into an accident?”

He nods. “Deadbeat boss stressed him out, got him on a business trip he did not even want where he had to clash with a friend who happened to be working for a rival company or some shit. Their cars collided. I was told the other mister tried to evade after seeing a truck with a drunk driver. But his action prompted my father to crash and... well, he broke his neck that way.”

“Horrible!” I squeal, my hand reflexively touches my lips. “And he…”

“Still has some physiotherapy sessions he needs to complete,” he continues. “The thing is—we really had no idea about this at all. My mother had to find out from the TV. And they had the photo. His body being squeezed in his car, hair sprawling and blood dripping. It’s just—my mother has always been frail, and such gruesome photo being broadcast like that did not do well with her. She was traumatized.”

… Wow. I did not…

“Old story,” he waves his hand. “I thought it might be odd for saying it without giving you a background.” He glances at de Valenciennes then. “You’re using this as well?”

“As well?” I blurt. “Omg. You read de Valenciennes?”

“No. Me and pretty things aren’t a match. And that includes French language,” he replies. There’s that twinkle in his eyes again, like a glint of innocent mischief and a taunting banter. “But his theory in regards to landscape painting and mapping this spatial idealism based on a certain image? I studied it.”

“What do you think?” I begin to eye him curiously now.

“Rich and sheltered assholes had no fucking idea what it meant to live like common people,” he snickers this time. “Why, you need de Valenciennes?”

I give him a small nod. “Uh. Well, for Forseti’s class. I did not mean to invite trouble, mind you, but he mentioned something about historical landscape paintings and what happened in the time like you said. Everyone else seems to be doing something similar, like analyzing the paintings for the sake of art itself. But I want more. I want to analyze the paintings _and_ compare it to the actual living condition or landscape common folks lived in so you know, you get the unfiltered one. Not the romanticized one.”

He smiles a little upon hearing me saying that. Why, he looks so kind when he purses his lips faintly that way! “That sounds like a challenging assignment and what you chose to do is creative.”

“… Hnnn.” Really? Did he truly just say that? No snicker-sneer about my field not being a real academic scope or how he’s supposed to be better considering he’s an aspiring planner?

“You have that expression again,” he points at my nose, still with a flat tone without malice. Unexpected to me he reaches into his pocket, passing something over the table with his palm clasping over it like he knows whatever he has there shouldn’t even be in the library to begin with.

I _stare._ That one he just passed to me—“It’s… Master Cakes,” I hold my breath, quickly clasping it back in my hands before any librarian notices we have food inside the library.

“Yeah,” he smiles faintly again. “The strawberry-honey cream rollcake slice. Too sweet for me.”

“Are you kidding, I love Master Cakes!” I beam at him. “Why did you have this if you don’t like it?”

“I spend most of my time working and training. Need some sugar to not feel so sluggish or hungry during classes,” he responds. “My aunt told me sweets make people happy and she often packs me some.”

“I bet she knows you are a brooding nerd,” I look at the cake slice again, still feeling so amazed at it. I’m flat-broke at this point. People were so mean to me on Instagram, and out of nowhere Kungfu Mufasa is so nice like this? “You’re so kind!”

He looks taken aback. “Me… kind?” he mutters, looking so perplexed that it sounds so cartoonish.

“Mm-hmm! Yes!” I giggle this time. “Now you are the one with the brooding expression.”

“What an odd rabbit,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from mine.

… Rabbit? “As if you’re not,” I stuck my tongue at him.

“Fair point,” he nods solemnly. “But I’m not a rabbit. You said I’m a lion.”

Carefully tearing the wrapper with an audacious victory-smile on my face, I take a little bite of the cake while he watches. “Oooh—!“

“How… was it?”

He looks so concerned. Like he anticipated the cake to turn into a grenade or something. You know what, probably he did. And if it did, he would blame himself. Somehow I won’t be surprised. After all, he seems to do that easily—rolling his sleeves for strangers he met at the streets. My friends have said he’s called the Black Knight. But can someone so brazenly _scary_ be so… cute?

… Ahem. I mean—not cute-cute. To be fair, he’s handsome—

… I MEAN. He looks so innocently surprised about some things I really would not expect others would!

“Omg. This is soooo nice!”

He puts his index finger on his lips, now decorated with a small smirk. “Careful now,” dropping his chords that his voice sounds like a husky whisper, he turns back his attention to me.

“Hehehe. I’ll be quiet! After all it’s Lene and not Girl Who Screams So Loud Last Night,” I smirk back at him. “If folks know there’s a Master Cakes here, they will probably maim me.”

“Never thought Master Cakes is _that_ popular,” he contemplates. “Ah. There’s cream on your face…”

He moves to wipe it off the corner of my lips before bringing his index finger to his own, licking it clean. “I don’t waste food,” he says in a jesting manner. The trace of leonine smirk is there as I witnessed back then, but this one is… different. Gentle and caring like that. B-but still, that one just now—

“Oh,” I mumble, unlocking my phone to use the front camera to check on my face. It’s gone. There’s still a leftover chunk of the cake, so why not take a picture of it?

“If you still want de Valenciennes, I can find something I used for reference,” he ponders.

“Really?”

“Yeah. No big deal. I’ll be at the sports hall at the usual hour,” he shrugs again.

“But why?”

“Why what?” he asks, looking appalled.

“Why are you helping me?”

“Hmmm,” he hums, fixing his black (really now?) sporty Mudmaster G-Shock watch encircling his left wrist. Seriously, even his things are either brooding or akin to a macho man on steroid? “Why are you?”

“… What?”

“That night. You risked your own safety to help me,” he replies. “You ran downstairs to check on me.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” I say, “… Do I need a reason?”

“Precisely,” he points at my nose again, smiling faintly. “I have class. Bye now, girl who loves sweets.”

“It’s Lene, you _brazenly sweet_ asshole—“ my tongue quickly flies to retort him, and my own palm quickly clamps over my mouth upon realizing what I just called him with. And of course I need to dodge and evade him in style—by knocking de Valenciennes off the table again.  “Oops!”

… So classy of me… _not_. S-so… childish…

I _elegantly_ slide off the table to retrieve that damn book, but…

“Hop carefully next time, rabbit,” Kungfu Mufasa picks up the book again, putting it on my lap since I’m too stunned to say anything. “Still not my name, but very kind of you. Thanks.”

He casually steers away after waving at me! Anyway, I still forgot to ask his damn name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Raydrik with the Conote restaurant and Mareeta doing AMA on him is derived from Thracia 776 lol. It feels cathartic when Raydrik gets served with the justice juice he deserves, right~?
> 
> Also Coirpre is so pure in both games that I couldn't help but giving that motto as his Instagram handle.
> 
> ... Anyway, I'm not an art major ;P


	4. Bona Fide

I squint.

Everything is dark, and my eyelids are still heavy. I search around to find my phone, and Rose is just there, right beside my nose. The screen says 2 AM. Grunting, I peel myself off the bed, forgetting to charge my phone that the battery bar is red as if shooting me with condemning ghostly stares. Sleepiness and laziness prompt me to not bother turning the light on, so I behave like a caveman would—searching for my charger while mumbling incoherent sounds. At this rate I have no idea if I’m still Lene or a winter trout. I already fell asleep straight after campus, anyway.

I was just about to plug in my charger when I heard my door creaking. My blood freezes. W-who is coming at this hour?! And yes, I really do not feel weird at all sleeping with unlocked door considering only Coirpre and I live in this apartment.

… Maybe I should. Gods—what if the _worst_ thing happened?! H-how is Coirpre?

I slowly pull my blanket higher, squeezing myself between the pillows. If this intruder is about to grab me, they may get the pillow first and I…

And I what?

I—probably should have asked Kungfu Mufasa what kind of tips he shared with his cousin after Twilight. G-gods, this is not going to be _one of those situations,_ right? For a man to stalk me and appear out of nowhere in my bedroom?

I keep myself very still. Perhaps I should keep my phone with me instead of leaving it charging!

The figure slides in and I hold my breath, preparing myself for the worst.

One step. Two. Three…

“H-huff.”

Huh? That voice sounds like a kid’s. I get up at an instant, turning on the lamp. “Coirpre?!”

“W-waaah! Sis!!” he tumbles on my slippers at the floor, landing with his chin first. With it, sounds of something… no, _some things_ clanking and thumping against each other can be heard as he panics. My Coirpre seems to be covering something, so I decide to pull my older sister tone and face.

“Why are you sneaking into my room like that, Coirpre? I thought there was a home invasion…”

“I—I’m sorry, Sis! I—really—“

“Coirpre?” with a softer tone, I inquire again, this time really pulling myself off the bed to get to him. He tumbles again, nervously trying to salvage something from my vision but… too late. A bottle rolls from under his body, and I have it caught before he could.

“I can explain,” his voice trembles in his throat.

I’m wide awake now. That’s my liquid foundation. “Coirpre, why…” I’m about to ask more, but he stands up, pulling two other bottles from his pajama pockets. The first thing he hands to me is my concealer, then my color-corrector cream follows after. And I can only stand there with my jaw dropping to the ground, bowing to match my little brother’s eyes as he fidgets so anxiously.

“I did not mean to—steal, Sis. I thought I could—borrow…” he whispers, putting back all the cosmetics he took to my little vanity set at the corner of my room.

“… We’ll talk about this later,” I muster a firm tone, still not too sure how to react. Is my little brother… experimenting? Or something else? “Go back to sleep. Why are you still up?”

“Uh—science project,” he replies in a sheepish manner.

“Science project,” my tone is sharper than I intended it to be, suddenly remembering my browsing history which I accidentally uncovered at the library. And—yes, ah, the shady Raydrik Conote.

“Y-yeah. The school’s star student Ced must be preparing something so spectacular so I kind of—want to make mine the best too. Tinny is his partner in that project, and…” he stops talking so abruptly, as if he realizes he just said something he shouldn’t. “So you are coaching Tinny? Is she like in the cheer team now, for real? Fixed?”

“Yes,” I respond, treading carefully because I don’t know what else to do. My brother has never been like this. Have I been being so… busy that I neglect his well-being… mentally?

“I’ll rival Ced. I’m joining the soccer team,” he mutters vaguely. “The coach assigned Ced as a middle-fielder! Will be great if I can be at the field too. Sis, I’m going back to sleep. I’m sorry again, Lene. You should never feel scared. You should only be… happy.”

I can only utter a good night as he leaves my room. “… Coirpre?”

“Y-yes?” he jolts, standing at the threshold as if gauging whether to stay or run.

“Remember, I’m your sister and I love you to bits, no matter what happens,” I ruffle his hair.

“O-of course. I love you too, Lene,” he envelops me in a hug.

… This feels so strange. I can only hold my urge to run after him, following him to his room to make him spill his heart out to me. My laptop sits in the darkness, and I decide to double-check the windows and the doors before going back to sleep.

Yawning, I return to my room, my phone flashing some notifications which I haven’t read because I fell asleep in the evening. Those are mostly from Instagram, which only takes my mind back to the library. Coirpre’s searches. Shady restaurateur corresponding with him, the AMA thread I didn’t finish reading, Coirpre trying to… what, wear my makeup? Perhaps I should skip school for a day to make time for Coirpre. Gods, suddenly I feel so, so tired. Tired and exhausted.

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _Afternoon M’lady_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _Evening perhaps_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _I’m speaking to you, slut_

Give me a break. I’m stressed, my brother is having a rough time which I have missed, and there’s this internet nice guy slash creeper pestering me.

 **_schalphy_ ** _Mom & Dad didn’t tell me they were going to be at Uncle Oifaye’s… ^^;_

 **_darkscion_ ** _Ha! Serves your translucent ass right **@schalphy** I & **@friegish** just had a great seafood date_

 **_schalphy_ ** _Sorry to disappoint your dark ass **@darkscion** but **@lionmeals** saved my hunger_

I’m tempted to comment on Seliph’s post.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Yo yo Seliph **@schalphy** you had no dinner? Same lololol_

 **_schalphy_ ** _Hi, Lene :) **@dancedancerebellion** I didn’t, but Lionheart Kitchen saved me haha. You should eat your dinner, please take care of your health! It saddens me when girls diet until they drop._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _liked this._

That handle sounds familiar! Hmmm, let me think later when I’m not this sleepy. Perhaps it’s one of the Tirnanog folks… then it makes sense if they follow me and Seliph at the same time. … Seliph is so pure…

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _Omg didn’t expect you to reply_ **_@schalphy_** _!! Y U no sleep?_

 ** _schalphy_** _I’m a law major :(( what is sleep_ **_@dancedancerebellion_**

I chuckle a little bit, refreshing the page.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Beautiful **@MasterCakes** ~^o^ I LOOOVE this omg!! _

My update from the afternoon showed up. It’s a picture of the cake I got from Kungfu Mufasa.

 **_MasterCakes_ ** _**@dancedancerebellion** The pleasure is ours! –LN._

LN? Ah, right. I almost missed the fact that several people help managing Master Cakes’ Instagram because of their high follower count and fast traffic. This is supposed to be the owner herself, Lachesis Nordion as how the bio on the patisserie’s account reads— _Master Cakes by Lachesis Nordion. Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication._

I tap the account now that I can’t fall back asleep like that. Let’s see if they have new cakes coming into the menu… perhaps if I budget and skip my meals, I can afford something for Coirpre? And perhaps through a nice cake, we can talk. I really am almost flat-broke at this point. I need to get paid.

 ** _MasterCakes_** _With love from our kitchens, we collaborate with **@lionmeals** for the summer special! Buy our nice sweet-sour fruit pie and get a personal-pan casserole of your choice from Lionheart Kitchen!_

Lionheart Kitchen? Ugh, if only Instagram showed me posts in chronological manner. But hey, free food! Personal-pan or mini casserole does not sound too bad for a dinner. I only live with Coirpre anyway. Out of curiosity, I tap _@lionmeals_. After all, Seliph praised it. It has to be something then.

 **_lionmeals_ ** _Lionheart Kitchen. We shall satisfy your hunger like one tames a lion! From our small humble kitchen with love, weekly menu delivery is now open._

There is a phone number for business under the name of Grahnye Nordion that follows after. Hold on—Nordion? Oh, perhaps it’s a family business joint-venture. That will easily explain the collaboration between Master Cakes and Lionheart Kitchen then. I crave to see more, scrolling on their updates and… oh, Lord God, those really are the most beautiful foods I’ve ever seen so far! Homemade? Really? Why isn’t this lady having her own restaurant yet?! I did not even know casserole can look so appetizing!

I decide to check more in the morning. Perhaps my eyes are fooling me because it’s past midnight and midnight hunger is very… common. And with all these beautiful foods, they can’t be cheap. Sigh.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _What are the available selections **@MasterCakes** and for how much? _

I sent my comment under Master Cakes’ update, hoping them to reply me in the morning. Since Lionheart Kitchen’s foods appear too majestic to fit a broke-ass college student’s pocket, perhaps it’s actually financially strategic to take what Master Cake offers. ... Perhaps this is what the Olympian gods feel when they devour ambrosia. 

… Financially strategic, huh? Such a loaded term for saying ‘I save money’…

I scroll again. Last time, I swear. I just need to check out the notifications!

 **_thunderingwithpride @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Conversationally. How can I be of assistance, Lene?_

Oh gods, I _almost, almost_ forget that Reinhardt is still Reinhardt.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _Oh it’s ok! Thank you Reinrein XOXO it was about the book I got from the library, I was thinking if I could see a review or journal online you probably can help me understanding it! I’ll see it again tomorrow Is2g dun wanna trouble u_ **_@thunderingwithpride_**

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _No worries. I’m still studying myself :) **@dancedancerebellion**_

So much for only checking for updates! But I want to make sure Reinhardt’s kind gesture is not ignored. And if I can catch Kungfu Mufasa tomorrow, I’ll see if I still need Reinhardt. I mean—it _will_ be nice to have someone helping me with the literal language, but I don’t want to trouble him. I don’t have anything I can offer Reinhardt in return—he’s well-off, he’s one of those prominent fraternity boys with a grand connection and social standing. He probably can’t afford a yacht, but sure he can afford many other things comfortably… which I can’t.

 ** _ratedexplicitonao3_** _There’s a foam at the corner of your mouth ;) you like that kind of thing?_

Gods. Perhaps I should have blocked him. It’s just the cream from Kungfu Mufasa’s cake!

 **_anblacknight_ ** _It’s cream, dipshit, the fuck is wrong with you **@ratedexplicitonao3**_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _Wew chill there shrimp dick **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _You sure about that? C: **@ratedexplicitonao3**_

This _anblacknight_ user again… ah, yes, I remember now; the one who liked my sassing this creep. Black Knight. Black Knight… perhaps my mind is just too full and I’m too tired that everything feels like many things at the same time. I remember my friends having said that apparently people dub Kungfu Mufasa as the Black Knight while this guy can’t even spell. 'An Blac Knight'? Really?

_**dancedancerebellion** It is! Thank you @anblacknight ^^V_

Huh, I can’t mention them. Private account then. I got two other notifications from the same user, apparently liking the previous edited videos I finally posted on Instagram. It was a snap of my first time training the Thracian girls when I taught them stretching, and another is my short video-blogging about improving stamina to get the endurance you want as you carry on your day.

But now that the last notifications I got are practically from them, Instagram simply dumps their other notifications like a thread. I scroll down again to check. It’s not that I’m glad someone stood up for me, but in all honesty I’m just… surprised, perhaps. That hardly happened before.

… Hmmm, Instagram user _anblacknight_ liked all my dancing-related videos but he—assuming it’s even a he—never liked my selfies or beauty-related uploads. Perhaps a man then. Perhaps not. Who cares…

I yawn again. It’s 2:30 in the morning, and just then I realize I had neither lunch nor dinner.

* * *

 

I thought I’m half-dead by the time I get to the sports hall.

I’ve been so busy that I could not make time to practice on my own. We’ll have a field project after this art history assignment—no, not from Professor Forseti. It’s a theatrical stage act, so I may need to do something classical. Still, if it’s theatrical it may be more demanding than going dancing all-out in a video clip-length duration, say, ten minutes being the longest. I must keep up with myself too, it’s tiring, but... what choice do I have? If I don’t score well this semester, I’m afraid it will affect my scholarships and grants. Then my Instagram audience may lose faith in me. This is wild, I know—but once you gain some sort of recognition, people expect you to be stellar all the time, and sometimes I have to remind them that dancers are human too. Even a STEM lord can get a D or miscalculate, but my failure will not be mine alone—it dooms us all as if people are already waiting gleefully to say “I told you so!”

I wish I wasn’t this pessimistic, but then again nobody wish for a hard life or feeling that their life is akin to a battlefield they have to wisely choose which one is to fight and which one to endure.

... Funny, isn’t it? If my life is a battlefield and everyday is a struggle, perhaps _I_ am the one they should be calling the Black Knight now.

Speaking of struggle... right. Gods, I need to check my balance because I’ll have to use my card again or there won’t really be anything to eat next week. I could only smile bitterly upon learning we nearly run out of eggs, milk, bread, and even cooking oil in the morning as I fried some eggs and sausages for Coirpre. I’ve been keeping rice bags in stock too, because at least fried rice is convenient and filling. All I need would be some kick-ass flavorful spices to make it feel like a different dish each time.

Coirpre still did not say anything, even after I packed his fried rice lunch before he left for school. He took longer time in the bathroom, and when he went out, I thought his temple was rather bronze-y. Being someone who wears makeup on daily basis and actually video-blogs about cosmetics since I'm also a beauty product endorser, my little brother can’t fool me—his nose bridge is contoured, and I think he applied some nude lipstick at the left corner of his lips. 

I decided to not point and tell. Perhaps he’ll tell me later when he’s ready. It hurts that he has to hide behind my back like this, though—I just want to know if he is alright, and he’s the only known relative I have in this whole, big, merciless world.

 **_pheeew_ ** _Hey what **@MasterCakes** product is it **@dancedancerebellion**? I’m craving…_

I don’t really feel like looking at cake selfie again because of that creep, so I send her a message.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I don’t know, Fee! Apparently a strawberry-honey roll but IDK abt the name_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Omg then how did you buy it?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ummm actually, no. Got it from Kungfu Mufasa._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
BLACK KNIGHT gave you a cake???_

Black Knight. Black Knight, Black Knight, Black Knight.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Yeahhh lol I didn’t expect him to be so courteous and kind like that :O_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
COURTEOUS AND KIND?_

Great, she’s in all capslock mode now. I know my girls would want to know the rest of the story later, but for some reason I can’t fathom, I’m not feeling it at the moment.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I thanked him but forgot to ask his name._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Lene_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Uhhh. Should I worry?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
He doesn’t have friends. Alright, Leif chats him up often but like, Leif is nice to everyone._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… I don’t get it?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Sigh. Girl, you’re too trusting._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I’m lost._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
He FIGHTS. Often. And wins them all. Lene, that one’s a conqueror._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I know. We talked about that the other day, right?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
… Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you’re dumb. Exactly because I’ve been friends with you since beautiful college life (I sneezed lololol) Day One. I don’t want him to take advantage of you._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
To be fair people let alone men are hardly nice to me so far, Fee._

I did not mean to sound so bitter, but here we are, I guess. If I could just exist for a day without having to think of money, worrying Coirpre, or making smiles no matter what kind of _shit_ people on Instagram is throwing at me... ah, I'm so feeling blue somehow! After all these things, I'm not supposed to accept some stranger's kindness who happened to catch me being sad and actually not... giving me a hard time about it? Pouring the leftover fried rice from the pan into my own lunchbox, my mood only gets sourer. … Was that cake not as ‘free’ as I thought it was then? Why do we need a legitimate reason to treat each other well like there's some kind of established professional standards which you have to abide through a long check-lists?

I lock my phone, packing a pair of comfortable yoga pants and a tanktop for the gym in my tote bag. I noticed the rice bag is now less than half-full, and suddenly I just want to... I don't know, mourn, perhaps.

* * *

  
_Brakes on a plane, brakes on a train_  
_Breaks to make you go insane_  
_Breaks in love, breaks in war_  
_But we got the breaks to get you on the floor_  
_And these are the breaks_  
_Break it up, break it up, break it up  
_ _Break down! Yo!_

The old jam hammers my earphones as I keep up my paces. My mood kind of improves—I’ve been doing this Pilates-like leg training for about ten minutes. I’m feeling bluer than usual, and since I can’t afford anything else, using Jugdral-U’s glorious sports hall to let loose and train is better than nothing at all. I feel it, the adrenaline rush. Yeah, perhaps I just need to break it up before it breaks me. I have college assignments I need to do, CV waiting to be polished, a mailbox I need to watch on because who knows, perhaps clubs and theaters will contact me back soon. I have a GPA I need to maintain because of the sweet scholarship and I need to keep establishing myself as a dancer considering that's the basis of the grants I received. And then I have a little brother who sails this life with me. My _little_ brother. Unarmed pure little brother and I need to shield him from the world before it cuts him badly.

No time to get sad. I _can’t_ afford to be sad.

Kurtis Blow ends right after I’m done with the reps. That felt good. That felt… helping. Some of my gloominess vaporizes and I quite feel refreshed. I feel like I can take Professor Forseti’s class better than usual. And yeah, I need to discuss my paper with him. At least I want to know if I’m allowed to take the scope I aimed for before I did an actual, legit paper. I'm not risking getting turned down for being out of topic!

The music player in my phone randomly shuffles to the next song by the time I’m wiping my neck. Now I’ll just need to wait for Kungfu Mufasa. Oh wait—he only casually said he’d be at the sports hall ‘at the usual hour’—provided our schedule even match in the first place! I still don’t know his name, and he may or may not be here at all while I’m still here. And I have Professor Forseti in the afternoon!

… Maybe he’s not serious. Perhaps it’s just some courtesy. Like the kind of ‘oh yeah we should hangout!’ you throw to people when you mean ‘nice to meet you, bye lol’.

I take my earphones off when I hear the doors being opened from the outside. Three dudes come in, chattering. Two head straight to the locker room, carrying duffel bags. Perhaps their training gear. Downing some water, I put back my earphones and begin to exercise again.

“Hi, lovelies! This is your girl Lene as always. In the next minute I’ll show you how to relax your legs so your muscles don’t feel burned as you begin your dance,” I speak to my phone camera, resting it on top of my things as I begin to crouch. “And today it will be sumo squat. We’ll do this to better your inner thighs. There are muscles there, and often times we ignore them until you take Pilates or something similar! But we like it simple and fun, so here goes~!” I begin to move. Bending my knees, I reach my hips to squat. I lower my hips until they are at a slightly-lower level than the knees, maintaining the position for some seconds and stand up again. “They usually recommend three sets of twelve reps each, but remember, don’t force yourselves! Those with certain conditions, please, talk to your doctors!”

I conclude the video, taking my phone again for the blissful music player and my life-saving earphones. Or so I intended to because one of those student athletes is approaching me.

“Nice,” he says oh-so casually. “You exercise often?”

“Uh. Yeah. I’m a dancer,” I respond curtly, plugging my earphones in.

 _Why am I always hit on by the boys I never like?_  
_I can always see ‘em coming, from the left or from the right_  
_I don’t want to be a priss, I'm just trying to be polite  
_ _But it always seems to bite me in the—_

… What a coincidence, it’s Victoria Justice. And he’s still there, staring at me. Like he watches each time I do the squat that it’s… unnerving. I’ve concluded three sets. I need to cool down and sip my water again. It should be all for today, because I’ll probably head back to the library to do this art history paper and perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of Kungfu Mufasa at the architecture aisle.

“Bet you’re in the cheer team.”

Dude. “… Yeah, I did that in high school.”

“Oh, cool. I’m with the rowing bros there. Cheerleader and an athlete, we’re a pair then.”

No, we’re not?

“I can teach you deadlifting. Heavy exercise is our forte. I’m the one training them, actually.”

Ok, cool story, bro. Next? “Thanks,” I murmur, still unsure of everything. Dropping to the mattress again, I want to return my phone to record again so I have a new material in queue, but he’s still there, looking at me! I’m finishing a set of scissor leg rep now, and he’s making humming sound, occasionally nodding and smirking like I’m his project or something.

“So that explains the cute butt, huh?”

“… Excuse me?”

 _You had me at hello, then you opened up your mouth  
_ _And then that's when it started going south_

“Yeah? Let me check then. Gotta see if those muscles move correctly or not, you know?”

“I—assure you, I do this regularly,” I start to feel uneasy now. I’m alone at the sports hall with him and his bros. These fratboy assholes. The jocks—whatever they’re called. I get up from the mattress, wanting to retrieve my things. I’m only in my yoga pants and tanktop, even my shoes are still in my bag. It does not escape me either that he is being condescending! I did not even ask for his so-called advice!

This isn’t fair. Truly isn’t fair…

“Oh, yeah, cheerleaders do that. Hip-shaking. That’s what gets me wild,” he moves closer.

 _Get your hands off my hips,_  
_‘Fore I'll punch you in the lips  
_ _Stop your staring at my—_

My mind goes blank. It’s like Victoria Justice is narrating a scene of my life, and I’m there—blank and speechless. He touches the sides of my hips, patting them, and like, starts _feeling_ them.

_Hey!_

“Hey!” I yell at him, doubling what Victoria Justice is screaming in my earphones.

“What? I’m only trying to help you here, geez, it’s not like you’re being raped or something.”

… T-that’s…

“Lene?”

I hear another voice calling my name, heading inside. I did not hear the doors open, unlike the noisy arrival of these dudebros. Whoever just came in ought to have gently opened them. And whoever it was, he does have a deep voice. … Deep, _menacing_ voice. What… am I finding myself into? When will this stop—

Row team jock stops.

“Get your hands off her, dickhead.”

The sunshine from outside illuminates the tall, _angry_ standing figure who slowly paces in like a preying lion. He enters the hall, his backpack in one hand because his another hand is holding a black leather jacket over his shoulders. “Sorry, I’m late,” he speaks to me, in a tone that is _completely different_ compared to the threat he barked just a few seconds prior! “I didn’t say much because I thought I’d be here as usual, but my mom’s cooking took longer to finish. Then I got caught up at the library.”

“Um—I was actually about to look for you there…” I respond, confused by the sudden shyness I’m feeling when I said I meant to look for him. Also—his mother’s… cooking?

“Glad I made it in time then,” he replies, completely ignoring the jock he just called dickhead!

“I’m—going to change,” I mutter weakly, taking my bags with me. I can sense his eyes following me, so I peek at him again when I’m already nearing the bathroom corridor. But by then he already stops looking at me. … Was he making sure I could go to the bathroom untouched or…

I don’t know how many times I splash water against my face. I’ve heard stories. I’ve heard of gym overlords. But I’ve never heard of—no, I’ve never experienced—

I forgot that life does not end when you log off the internet. I forgot life has no block button. I…

“I’m sick of seeing your fart-face around, Black Knight.”

“Yeah? Then die. Simple.”

I contain my gasp in my throat. That voice. It’s got to be the jock from prior, and gods—just like that night, Kungfu Mufasa responds to him in a disinterested manner like he’s dead _bored_. I get dressed in a flash—zipping my jeans and running my lip gloss over my lips quickly the moment my hair is done.

“How about I crush your skull on the floor and deck you straight to Forseti’s dick instead?”

I rush outside. The jock seems have the bod to intimidate people, but Kungfu Mufasa has an intimidating death glare and a firm shape as a contender. There’s something in the way he carries himself that makes him appear… bigger although they are practically around the same height, facing off toe to toe like that.

The jock pushes Kungfu Mufasa with his hands. He looks fuming mad now because that lion demon does not even appear to be intimidated. His expression is still as straight-flat as ever, and his legs are firmly planted on the floor that he does not appear to be much bothered being pushed like that. Suddenly everything my friends had told me about him lingers in my mind—Black Knight, a conqueror, undefeatable Black Knight …

I can see the jock lunging at him, but without batting an eye Kungfu Mufasa darts a straight kick against the jock’s solar plexus, knocking the air out of him. ... That must be hurt. A lot. The jock practically  _wails,_ his hand is rubbing where the kick landed as if his entrails are about to spill out.

"Calm down. It's not like you're being murdered or something," Kungfu Mufasa merely looks down in a cooing manner like he did not nearly destroy another man's diaphragm. The jock looks at him in such utter horror, realizing what the blonde tries to convey to him. Not done yet, Kungfu Mufasa simply grabs the jock before he crumbles to the floor, holding him by his nape and casually drags him to face a column of utility lockers at the corner.

Black Knight. Conqueror. Scary Black Knight. Black Knight, Black Knight—

But it's like... he's doing a payback. For... me? Unbelievable!

However Kungfu Mufasa stops when the jock’s face is merely an inch away from the lockers. Tossing the jock at his feet, he murmurs, with a voice colder than a Scandinavian winter. “Don’t be a creep.”

I’m speechless. So are the jock’s friends, who drag him out of the sports hall with a red face.

I approach him slowly... “... You stopped,” that’s all I can muster. Wow, I’m so great. I probably should have said something... better. Sweeter. Yet there I am, mesmerized that he just stopped right that. He could have turned it messier...  _bloodier,_ if he wanted to, considering he already got the advantage the moment his kick paralyzed the jock. Yet he did not. It was like he did what he had to do, but stopped before everything... got  _cruel._ So how did he even get that notorious alias again, considering he still got to be mindful even though he was angry?

“Do you need a doctor?” he asks... gently.

I shake my head. I understand what he tries to ask me. And I’m surprised he has worded it thoughtfully.

“Good,” he sounds relieved, picking up the backpack (yes, black too!) and jacket he dumped on the floor the moment he entered this building. He unzips his backpack, taking something out of it. “Hope this can help,” he says, handing another book to me. “That one practically covers landscape architecture in the mid-1800s in a storytelling way art history does. There are photos of the paintings from the Getty too. So for short, it tells you what people began to build and how lands were managed which then mirrored in the paintings. And sure, industrialization...”

I watch him explaining things to me while my thoughts fly somewhere else. He took time to find the book at the library. _His_ book. I picture him scanning through architecture aisle to help—me. Black Knight, they said. Black Knight, Black Knight, Black Knight. How unfitting. How—unfair.

“... I can look into my own notes if there are things you want to crosscheck,” he finishes. “... Hey.”

“Ah—yes!!”

“... You were spacing out, and now you screamed again?”

“Sorry!! I heard you, yes, I do! Oh—“ I reflexively gasp again. “U-um...”

“Are you sure you are alright?” he bends to check on me.

“Actually—“ I look at him. “There is something I’d like to ask...“

“Oh. What is it? Forewarning though—I’m not the smartest kid in my department.”

“You said your name is not Dumb. Neither it is Brazenly Sweet Asshole,“ I murmur, my own bag covering half of my face. Why do I feel like _collapsing_ when I said that?  

“Sadly no,” he smiles a little. “For either of them.”

“Um. I heard people call you the Black Knight, and that bro just now also…”

“Yeah.”

“… But your parents didn’t name you Black Knight, did they?” this time I lift my face up again, returning my bag to its initial position as my hands clutch on the book he gave me.

He throws his head aback a little, looking so surprised that I said that. What? Why was he? But really, there were some considerable solid seconds until he replies. “Yes. They did not.”

“Or is it Kungfu Mufasa?” somehow I’m feeling tickled to poke him a bit. “You know, like, the Lion King?”

“… I don’t do kungfu, though,” he responds slowly, his eyes shimmering as if they’re laughing.

“Really? I notice you usually show up with the same lightweight white pants and black sash…”

“Well, I’m a proud owner of a loyal washing machine,” he chuckles lightly.

“Great! Did it win a pageant?” I counter. Test, test, test. Can I mess around with him? Oh wait, I already did. And I'm still in one piece. He did not bite me. 

“No. Lost to a dog named Sir Barkington who ate pancakes,” he jokes back, with a… soft voice.

“Alright, that settles it then. Let’s do this again,” I stretch my hand at him. “I’m Lene, your new friend~!”

He looks appalled, but… slow but sure his face lights up, revealing a soft smile. His gaze appears to be very tender, and for a moment he reminds me of a… baked bread. Yes, baked bread! Comforting, fluffy soft bun; akin to a raising dough in your oven. “… Ares,” he weaves me into a gentle handshake.

 _Ares._ Ares …. “Like, the Greek god of war Ares?”

“Yeah, that Ares,” he replies, seemingly amused at my question.

“I know it, you’re only alleged human,” I tease him again, half-anxious of how his reaction might be. “So, how shall I handle your book? I appreciate this a lot, but I don’t want to bullshit my paper or straight-up copying your assignment. Besides, I doubt Professor Forseti won’t notice if I do. Lecturers have a secret spy network and talk in a lost, ancient tongue. Won’t be surprised if they do Parseltongue…”

Perhaps I should stop talking. Have I been too chirpy with him? He’s probably going to feel weirded by my social butterfly-ing. My friends said he doesn’t even appear to have his own group of friends…

“I checked the book under my name, so I’ll return it. Thank you. That is very considerate of you.”

Considerate, huh…? He is the one helping me, and yet he... thanked me like I did him a great favor? “Um. Okay. I’ve got kinesiology after this, so… see you later, I guess.” Somehow I want to keep chatting with him? My friends will probably think I’m crazy, but I do think he’s actually pretty easy and nice to talk to! Maybe because I don’t have this luxury often—chit-chatting for the sake of the conversation itself without having to worry whether the guy just chats me up because he wants to get in my pants for whatever fantasy or assumption he has about me.

… Perhaps I’m the one who actually has… nobody.

“Then may I walk you to your class?” he says. “I just want to be sure,” adding, he casually opens the door for me.

Just like that night, he just... offered. He shouldn't have. That creep is probably busy trying to salvage some bruises and his friends appeared to be so embarrassed that the oh-so star athlete collapsed under one kick after those boastful talks and much showing off. He could just wave and leave, yet there he is, completing his mission. What Diarmuid said that day somehow fondles my thoughts— _My cousin is a dork,_ he said,  _But he does what he says he will._ No wasted moves but when he acts, he finishes it.

 

 … I nod. I really did not think I would, but I did. I nod this time. And I truly don’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've got a name now >:)
> 
> Ares, kicking the crap out of practically everyone else: REAL BRO DRINKS RESPECT WOMEN JUICE


	5. So You Dare

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _The look™ for today. Slide to check the essentials I always have ready in my closet. Details in the caption, including the kind of cardigan you can wear in just all seasons! You won’t believe the money you can save with neutral-colored clothing articles at your service!~^^ Now that I get your attention, I’d like to point out that no matter who they are or the clothing they wear, women get harassed. Moral of the story, please don’t be a creep. We are all human being just like you and we live in the same spaces that you do. No means no and the absence of no does not equal a yes. Thank you!!_

I exhale. Now, now that post wasn’t easy to make, but I have to. I have many followers, and I know this has been repeated again and again but if I can engage people for a good cause, why not?

 **_bannedondiscord_ ** _Wow wouldn’t expect you’d be one of those feminists **@dancedancerebellion**_

... Sigh. Reading comprehension, where are you? Better to post another update then.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Simple leg exercise for your inner thighs :)_

That video still left a bitter taste in my mouth, and if I’m going to be honest to myself, I really don’t even want to touch the video again because of that creep. But the show must go on. I don’t want to lose to him. I know what I do may not be suitable for everyone else, and I’m not going to condemn girls who cower and feel the need to shrink themselves for a while.

 ** _tinyyymagic_ ** _Coach Bragi **@dancedancerebellion** are we going to do that next?? So excited!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Yes! I’ll get you girls cartwheeling too next time ;D **@tinyyymagic** so let’s try to start training for flexibility because habitual regiment begets optimal result!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I heard from **@miralster** that the team is going to have a test play soon, so we’ll have evaluation for that too. Here you go, #TBT our first day! **@tinyyymagic** **@ordinarilykarin** **@sarlopts** I love you girls and I’m honored to coach you all! XX._

Now that I have some free time, I can make dinner for us. I hope Coirpre is feeling better when he gets back from his club activity! After what happened, I really wish I could do all these nice things for him so that he feels comfortable again. And to think I’ve been so busy these days...

Taking the phone with me to our pantry, I begin to check for every corner in case I can find some nice ingredients to cook with. Oh nice, didn’t know we still have some leftover ground beef. Phew. And ah, random spaghetti packs I threw into the basket because they were on discount! So… spaghetti? Sounds good. Besides, cooking actually helps me to recover from the ordeal. ... I hate that men can just... damage us, leave an impact there and act like we’re crazy for even pointing about it.

 **_amalduh_ ** _How do I make it like I don’t wear the same thing for days? **@dancedancerebellion**_

 _Hi again Amalda! Neutral-colored clothing articles such as shoes or jackets can always be paired with lively pieces ^^ Do you have print t-shirt? Put it on! Or, let your accessories do the magic!~_ **_@amalduh_ **

**_amalduh_ ** _Thank you **@dancedancerebellion** I’m so ashamed… can’t even choose my own wardrobe… I’m a blood-thirsty murderer… I murder aesthetics… me…_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Hello **@amalduh**! Don’t be ashamed. Personal comfort comes first!~ ^^_

I hum along, twirling and freely singing some lines from Nessun Dorma blasting in my earphones. Waiting for my spaghetti to boil, I decide to check on my phone. Probably not a wise decision, but hey, I’m still holding my spatula. Besides, one time a lady at Oprah’s book club said she nearly burned her husband’s dinner for reading Ken Follett’s _Pillars of the Earth._ I’m only adapting a digital era we live in.

 ** _ratedexplicitonao3_** _Gotta love them cheer girls, feminine with nice bodies unlike those fat sweaty feminists_ **_@dancedancerebellion_**

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Hi, please do not drop a comment like this especially on the posts pertaining my team, thank you **@ratedexplicitonao3** I have no wish to be pitted against other women._

 **_larceiheyhey @ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _Disgusting misogynistic pig **@dancesdancerebellion** block him he probably has a thing or two with underage teen girls_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _**@larceiheyhey** Misogynistic? My name is Matt! **@dancedancerebellion** Wow how dare of me to follow and comment on a public account. So much for freedom of speech._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _They are minors! Leave them alone! **@ratedexplicitonao3**_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _Well they look pretty legal to me **@dancedancerebellion**_

_Dilegua, notte!  
_ _Tramontate, stelle!_

I turn off the stove, setting aside the spaghetti for a while. Now, the meat. Ah, my phone…

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Oi **@ratedexplicitonao3** turn on your location _

**_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _What for and who the fuck is this? **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _I just want to talk c: **@ratedexplicitonao3**_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _I don’t even know you **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Ah yes, how dare of me interacting a public account on a public post… **@ratedexplicitonao3**_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3 @anblacknight_ ** _Are you mocking me bro, are you a child porn police or something?!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _No, I’m not that nice C: **@ratedexplicitonao3** your last post was tagged as Jugdral-U?_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _OI **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Where, **@ratedexplicitonao3** I’m @ south entrance parking lot, near milk tea counter :D_

South entrance parking lot. Instagram user ‘anblacknight’. Black Knight…

_Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me_  
_Il nome mio nessun saprà, no, no_  
_Sulla tua bocca, io lo dirò  
_ _Quando la luce splenderà._

I drop my spatula out of reflex.

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Chickened out aren’t you **@ratedexplicitonao3** only prey on girls like the trash you are _

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Dear anblacknight I can’t mention you but don’t do anything dangerous!!_

 ** _anblacknight_ ** _I won’t be the one in danger though C: **@dancedancerebellion**_

Eh, forget it. Ares can’t be typing with emojis! Besides, there is no emoji to convey a death stare.

 **_bannedondiscord_ ** _You wink and smile at the camera and took photos of your closet and then claim to be harassed. Next time some guy takes you out for a lunch you’d cry rape **@dancedancerebellion**_

That really ruins my mood! Really? Is this the hill these guys choose to die on? There will be no victim if nobody is harassing anybody, good lord! And I did not even ‘claim’ to be harassed. I was harassed!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Interesting you’d quickly bring rape into the discussion like girls claim rape out of convenience **@bannedondiscord** the proof? I simply posted a video to raise awareness and another about color-coordinating your outfit and you got mad???_

 **_bannedondiscord_ ** _Lol sit down baby it’s probably the period **@dancedancerebellion**_

This… asshole…

I set my phone aside. Inhaling, exhaling… don’t think. Ignore him, ignore him… don’t take the bait… look at the beautiful spaghetti I’m making… post something else…

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I just started reading this book and I have to say I’m pretty hooked! To a tall and blond Ares from the landscape architecture department, thank you soooo much!! You’re such a blessing!_

 ** _pheeew_** _Tall and blond? BLACK KNIGHT??_ **_@dancedancerebellion_**

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Yes!! **@pheeew** He checked out the book for me! He’s very kind!_

 **_pheeew_ ** _Uhhhhhh **@dancedancerebellion** are you sure it’s him?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Mullet **@pheeew**_

 **_pheeew_ ** _… Wow. YEAH IT’S THE BLACK KNIGHT!!! **@dancedancerebellion**_

S-she is in capslock mode again…

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _No **@pheeew** he said his name was Ares! :O Sooo Ares it is then! ^^V_

Now I need to wait until this baby is cooked perfectly!

 **_anblacknight_ ** _liked your post: “I just started reading this book and…”_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _… No, he is not. **@dancedancerebellion**_

Huh? Alright, the handle does have Black Knight in it. But it… can’t be, right?

 **_anblacknight_ ** _If we are mutuals, then we know each other. Your delivery man on Mystletainn._

He does not even put his name at all there! Not even 'I'm a cyborg', or 'Alleged Devil' or something! And... delivery. I don’t think I know any other Ares at Jugdral-U who does that. I think it won’t hurt to check. After all, he helped me that day. And if Ares was indeed _anblacknight_ who just casually threw a fighting challenge because some Instagram dude was being a lewd to my girls, that only makes it even more reasonable to affirm my suspicion, right? At least he deserves a thank you. He probably keeps everything short because that's just the way he talks too in real life. And probably he isn't so kind allowing strangers get a free-flow access contacting him. 

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Pardon me, is this… Ares?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Yes._

Ah, he approved receiving direct message from me! So honest and straightforward! Alright, that fits the first clue to be Ares.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Of the landscape architecture major? Tall blonde with a mullet?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _The really kind Ares with a legendary death glare~?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… No._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Oh, sorry! The really kind Ares with gentle eyes then? ^O^_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Lene._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hnnn~?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _… Forget it, you’re formidable._

Formidable? This is a compliment, you alleged lion demon! So here I am, scratching my head that isn’t even feeling itchy at all. Perhaps lion demons speak in cryptic. Perhaps I should go to the zoo and watch lions closely because that will help me understand Ares better. Should I practice roaring?

But more importantly, WHY did he never tell that he had been following me all along? And not only that, who would have thought the alleged mighty-scary Black Knight would follow me, a dancer and beauty blogger on Instagram?! I don’t even smack ants in my kitchen! S-so… again, why?

His account is private, though. Should I just… follow? Hnnn. Somehow there’s this weird pride in my chest demanding me to wait a little bit more. Is it just because his account is private? Probably he just does not want to be disturbed by the people he does not even know. … Yet he argued with unsavory guys on my account? And it was like he did not _intend_ to hide at all.

So why did he follow me? Can it be that we’ve actually met even before that fated night? I don’t think so. Even if he did not know my name, there would be a chance he thought he caught my face somewhere else. Even Diarmuid thought I looked familiar and all he needed to do was to catch a glimpse of me in Tirnanog! If he just followed everyone he thought he knew in real life… still, why would he be silent? Seliph had no problem walking in and just informed me it was Seliph.

… Oh, right. Based on what he displayed to me, he seemed to _dislike_ Seliph. But to think that he would just follow people, looking at them from afar… and they did not even bat an eye about him at all when blatantly gossiping about the Black Knight on their accounts…

… Sounds lonely, don’t you think?…

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ares seems to be following me since forever ago :O_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _For real??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Yeah, and based on the notifications he seems to always Like my choreography videos! :OO_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
You two seem close tho ngl lol or… he marked you._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Don’t even know what his zodiac is. MARKED ME FOR WHAT? I can’t even fight omg I won’t last long._

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Bet it’s Aries because #angry but… pffft won’t last long, eh? I don’t think he’s that low tho._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Aries-Ares. Gods. OKAY LARCEI SHUT UP YOUR FACE BUT. HOW ARE WE CLOSE_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _You talk to and about him in a way that nobody else does I guess._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Maybe because people fear him so much that they forgot he can talk and smile._

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _He smiled at you???_

What’s so weird about that? He’s an awkward nerd and nice to have around. Okay, probably scary. But how does one get out of a fight with a clown face? If anything, might only get smacked even more.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hey Ares what’s your zodiac?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Aries. Why?_

FUUUUUU—

… Ahem. So he’s an Aries indeed! Haha, why wouldn’t I be following him back? I’m not a coward! Black Knight what, mullet what, nice face what… there! I tap follow! He’s not the only one who can just approve me to send him direct messages like that. … Besides, this way he wouldn’t be… excluded from the fun, right? And oh, he approved? That easy? Perhaps he waited so _I_ added him first? Dammit. But I can’t back down now. And I’m not going to totally snoop on his account like that. Nooope.

 **_anblacknight_ ** _First seven moves of Tekki Sandan._

Tekki… Sandan? I don’t know what it is, but it looks like a workout video. Should have thought.

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Glad to see you active again my bro :’) **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _I need to burn the flame before it devours me. **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

… What a dork. What does he mean, burning the flame? Active? So he’s an alleged robot? Alleged active volcano?!

 **_anblacknight_ ** _… Must… clean..._

 **_lightprincess @anblacknight_ ** _ARES WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR KITCHEN IT’S A SHIPWRECK_

 ** _anblacknight_** _My mother **@lightprincess**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Improving your range helps to kick better. See I’m 6’2” and this target is at around 6’5”. **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

Oooh, 6’2”, huh? Godfuckingdangit. Ouch, the boiling water sprinkled on my hand! Hnnngh! Karma for snooping on Ares? Then let’s purge the bad luck! Face Ares’ ass like I was born to do this! Yeees!

… T-to do what again, by the way?

_**dancedancerebellion  
**If you've been following me all these times then why were you surprised when I introduced myself to Diarmuid? :OO_

_**anblacknight**  
Didn't know your name._

_**dancedancerebellion**  
HOW COOOOME OMG_

_**anblacknight**  
Check your bio, rabbit._

_**dancedancerebellion**  -L.E.B.- Dancer / choreographer / beauty blogger. For business inquires and product endorsement, reach me at leenbrag@emblemmail.com_

I slap my forehead at an instant. 'L-E-B'! And my email, acronym of my initial and how my name is pronounced. H-he's got a point. Aaaaah, this is embarrassing!

 _**dancedancerebellion** _  
_Alright fair pointtt. Sigh. You MUST BE smirking!_

_**anblacknight**  
Ippon._

_**dancedancerebellion** _  
_Sorry I did not know it was you earlier! I just checked! I thought it was just some oddball who couldn't spell :O_

 _**anblacknight** _  
_It's alright. Won't begrudge a lady for taking safety measures._

_**dancedancerebellion**  
Theeere, added you~!_

_**anblacknight**  
... Hmmm._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Thank you for approving me! ^^ Now we’re mutuals!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Why did you follow back?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Because we know each other now and that you are nice? :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I don’t even post things you like._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
That’s what friendship is, you know? ^^ Being there for the person just like you and Twilight._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… I see._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Which makes me wonder though, it seems to be the case for you too so why did you follow me? :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Somehow you appeared on my newsfeed doing a somersault. Must be because of Nanna._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You are related to Nanna?? :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
She’s Diarmuid’s sister, making her my cousin too._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
THE WORLD IS SMALL OMG sooo… the Twilight cousin?~_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Haha, yes._

So he can also laugh virtually too! I thought he only uses emojis when he threatens murder. But wait, did he follow me just because of Nanna? That still doesn’t answer anything. I did not sporadically follow Ishtar’s trio just because we know each other and that their flashy boutique haul pictures showed up frequently on my newsfeed.

 … Alright, I did. BUT! On behalf of my defense, Ares does not strike me as someone who would just… do something because everyone else does it. First thing first, if he does, he won’t wear black most of the time like that. He won’t get an antique bike. He won’t even style his hair in a mullet! So let’s check!

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Hey Ares have you tasted Starbucks’ new Unicorn drink? :O_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_No. … Too sweet. The colors… brutal._

Awh, he’s so cute. Okay, let’s try again.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Is your phone an iPhone_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
No._

See? Case closed.

 **_bannedondiscord_ ** _Yeah I followed her because she’s cute **@ratedexplicitonao3** but it seems she’s one of those feminists who cries oppression each time she gets comments she doesn’t like_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _Lol just mute the sound, not important anyway **@bannedondiscord**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _… You guys know you’re commenting on MY posts so I can read them, right? **@ratedexplicitonao3 @bannedondiscord** wow you really deserve getting slapped._

 **_bannedondiscord_ ** _You think I’m scared **@dancedancerebellion** feminists act tough all the time then cry._

Okay, you want me to be mean, then so shall I be! Blocked, blocked, blocked… huh, an attached picture?

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _What’s with that blue belt photo,_ **_@bannedondiscord_** _, are you threatening me?!_

 **_bannedondiscord_ ** _We’re all equal she said oh nooo don’t punch me she said **@dancedancerebellion** _

I’m stunned where I am. Existing, then getting groped. Speaking, then getting beaten up. Studying, then getting looked down upon. Dancing, and probably getting everything at the same time. So some dude decided to beautifully make it all about him, posting a martial arts belt after degrading me? Why would I lie about ~that~… I don’t even know that asshole jock’s name. I’m not even getting anything from this!

 **_anblacknight_ ** _So you’re a 9 th kyu and parading your belt like that? Pathetic **@bannedondiscord**_

 **_bannedondiscord_ ** _Awww here comes the white knight **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _On the contrary :) **@bannedondiscord**_

 **_bannedondiscord_ ** _Lol you can get some too **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Get what, newbie? **@bannedondiscord**_

 **_bannedondiscord_ ** _I don’t usually fight ladies but feminists are exception. #Equality **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Wonderful, I’m no lady C: **@bannedondiscord**_

Newbie? And there he is again threatening murders with… smileys!

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_ARES STOP oh gosh what if he comes for you??_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_Then I’ll be a good host C:_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_… You spoke like you’re a blackbelt or something :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Oh, yes. I do have._

Oh, so that’s why he’s so strong! Or perhaps…

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Do you eat raw flesh and drink blood?_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_… Do I what now?_

Okay, so… probably truly is a human. Not a shapeshifting lion demon.

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_Look, black belt(s)._

He sent me a photo?

Okay, let’s open it. So he does have a black belt… w-what? Oh gods. What he sent me is a glimpse of his closet—five black waistbands being neatly arranged inside! … That’s actually pretty funny and entertaining. So he can joke as well, huh? What a dork! But that… did improve my mood.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Thank you! That was clever! ^o^_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Anytime._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… I just wish the world was a safer place for anybody…_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _You did nothing wrong._

His simple response somehow instills reassurance within me. I did nothing wrong? I’ve never had that before. I mean—I have the girls. But this one is an outsider. And he made it so simple, so unhesitant that I have the right to be wherever I want to be. To occupy the same space as others do. … As men do.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Thank you!! See, I’m right, you’re so kind!_

I send him a selfie of me smiling at him with a thumbs-up. Hnnn, I hope he does not catch that my eyes were a bit glassy in that selfie. Wait—considering he never liked my selfies so far, p-perhaps I made the wrong move?!

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Omg sorry I didn’t mean to make it like you have to accept my face or anything pls feel free to delete_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I’ll accept this gift of a face._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You… are you even human? ^^;;;_

So he does not actually _hate_ my photos? Whatever then. Let’s just sweat Ares’ alleged human status for later because… my spaghetti is done now! It looks so pretty on the plate, and the sauce looks amazing. H-haha, I sound so sure of myself. But perhaps this is great! I’ve been feeling so down and any positivity is nice. Besides, I’m quite hyped since we get to take a break after making fried rice for a week straight!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Homemade spaghetti for dinner :) It looks pretty but fingers crossed I hope it tastes as good as it looks! I’ve been saving $$ for a while now so I mostly made omelet, fried rice, then omurice… ^^; There’s plenty of this thx to Costco’s beautiful discount. It feels good to have real food again! And it feels GREAT to be able to feed my lil bro heheheee~!_

 **_darkscion_ ** _… Impressive. Ahem. I mean. Heh, passable for a peasant **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_friegish_ ** _I’m sure it tastes as good as it looks :) **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _HE SHOULD BE DEAD HAPPY HAVING A SIS LIKE YOU **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I’d rather have him ALIVE tho haha! **@larceiheyhey** thanxieee Ishtar! **@friegish**_

 **_miralster_ ** _…. Coach, y-you are so cool **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I can DM you the recipe, **@miralster** ;D_

Now I’ll just wait for Coirpre to come home and prepare a container to store this sweetie in the fridge!

 **_MasterCakes_ ** _Hi, this is Finn from Master Cakes **@dancedancerebellion** pie & casserole promo starts at $32. Feel free to mention **@lionmeals** with your selection of casserole too so we can coordinate better!_

Thirty-two dollars. But there’s free casserole with the pie as well. The last time I checked homemade pies online cost about thirty! And with my spaghetti perhaps we can survive until two-three days ahead. Doesn’t seem bad then. Master Cake’s classic apple pie is already murder-worthy. Now let’s see the best filling casserole I can snatch to fit in the budget… handsomely.

I tap _@lionmeals_ again to check on the casseroles. Gods, they do look amazing. I didn’t know casseroles could appear so otherworldly like this. The filling seems to be generous and I can see sausages and meat chunks here and there. Suddenly I feel sad. My food suddenly appears so pathetic…

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _hellohello_ **_@lionmeals_** _I found about you from a friend. The casseroles look AMAZING omg!! Are they available for a la charte or do you only deliver weekly meal set? Thx in advance!_

Now I’ll just wait for their reply to see if the promo is worth the money or not. The clock is ticking to six, and I nearly rush outside when I hear the elevator ringing. Key is being inserted into the door and some seconds later, from the parlor I can see my little brother slowly closes the door.

“Coirpreee! You’re finally home!! How’s the practice?” I run to him with the best cheerful voice I have. My smile must look ugly excited now, but really though, somehow seeing him coming makes me feel so relieved. It must have surprised him greatly too because he nearly jumps on his feet.

“S-sis! You’re home early.”

“Yeah! I don’t have a job today and there’s a paper I need to do,” my mind flies back to Ares’ book again, currently resting on my desk in the room facing my laptop. “So, Coirpre…” my voice stops the moment I get a better view of him. He is so dirty! I mean, his t-shirt is stained with dirt. His sports pants have mud spots here and there, and I think I caught some loose threads at the sides. “You tore your pants?”

“Ah—ah, y-yeah,” he fidgets a bit. “I’m sorry about that…”

“Nooo problem! It’s only sewing. Come on, come on, let’s get you nice and clean. And I’ve got spaghetti to feed you WELL,” I put on my evil smirk to mimic a cartoon villain’s speech. “I have no idea soccer is pretty demanding, Coirpre! If I didn’t know you joined a team, I’d have thought you brawled at the field,” I casually gesture at his scraped knee. There were awkward bruises on his legs too, and his forehead has a faint blue mark on it. Wew. My brother truly is working hard out there, huh?

“Brawled? Nooo!” he quickly countered, so fast that his backpack is falling off his shoulders. “Oops. I—want to make it into the match, Sis. The coach started eyeing players and discussed formation.”

“Coirpre. Come on, it’s alright,” I gently take his arm, leading him inside with me. “I’m not going to chastise you just because of dirty clothes and dirt at the door. I’m proud of you trying! Now eat…”

“Umm. Can it wait?” he flinches when I pat his shoulders.

“… Eh. Oh. Alright then,” I mutter, feeling rather crushed at an instant. “Had food at school?”

“Just—some snack,” he replies, dumping his dirty clothes into the washing machine. “I’ll join you after I’m done bathing, alright, Sis?”

“Sure…” I murmur, hoping my uneasiness isn’t spelt on my face. My little brother evaded my touch, which never happened before. I feel so sad. He seems to be hiding from me. Of course he can have his secrets but… it’s like he is trying to escape from me. Have I been being a bad sister?

My mind is full. I blankly approach the washing machine as I always, checking whether Coirpre left some things in his pockets. It happened a few times before—sometimes he forgot some tissues and candies he stuffed there. Another time I saved a twenty dollar bill he forgot to put in his wallet back.

Oh, okay, nothing is there. Good. But uh—what’s this ugly reddish-brown stain on the collar? Coirpre is pretty efficient and hardly gets in trouble. … Uh—

 _Hi,_ **_@dancedancerebellion_** _the casserole is available as a single menu. We have options for the sausages and selection of meat including vegetarian options. Check your DM._

 **_lionmeals  
_ ** _Good evening, here’s the menu and price list. Let me know if you have further questions._

There is a photo with details like the size, pricing, and even short explanations pertaining important things like whether it contains gluten and whatnot. Wow, so helpful. Now I understand why they have loyal fans and kick ass despite the modest follower count, if, say, compared to Master Cakes. S-sized casseroles are mostly priced at around eleven dollars. M-sized ones start at twenty-two…

I tilt my head. The bathroom door is open and Coirpre lingers further inside.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I did not know soccer was a rough sport!! Any tips to minimize uhhh, getting kicked and bruised?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _OMG I’m so sorry Ms Nordion this is supposed to be a separate Instagram post!! Again, sorry!!_

Wew, I ended up sending that as a direct message to Lionheart Kitchen! I’m so distracted…

 **_lionmeals  
_ ** _Getting kicked and bruised?_

Oh, great, she is now concerned. Sigh. I can’t ignore her concern.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Um, my little brother practices soccer and he seems pretty roughed up! Forearms, knees, collar stains…_

 **_lionmeals_ ** _  
That is strange, he’s not supposed to use his arms when playing. And no, if anything players are trained to receive the ball with their thighs not their knees. Is he walking normally, or limping?_

She is so kind and acts like nothing happened to just respond to my missent messages…

“Hi, Sis,” Coirpre speaks behind me, prompting me to nearly drop my phone out of reflex.

“Come here, Coirpre!” I respond in a casual tone I managed to muster. What Lionheart Kitchen said in the direct message only fuels my uneasiness...

He obediently follows, reaching for a plate on the kitchen counter. Again, I can see that his face is rather bronze-y. Whatever he did to his face this time, he seems to be getting better at it. He probably stole a chance to use my makeup again. But why did he go rogue like this? Why went behind my back?

To cheer him up, I start making small talks like we would always at our dinner table. After all we only have each other in this world… “Bad news, you need to survive on my spaghetti for the next two days. Good news, I’ll do groceries soon. I’ll check for clubs, and if I get a gig, I want you to sleep on time as always and not waiting on me! Anyway, I’ll be fine, my Coirpre. And you can take this for lunch later!”

Coirpre put a small portion of the spaghetti into his plate. “Is it possible if…”

“Anything for you! Uh—yes?” I quickly tone it down. He shouldn’t know I began sensing… inconvenience.

“Great. Can I have lunch money instead, Sis? Or like, instant lunchies instead of homemade cooking?”

Lunch money. Lunch money… “… Is anything wrong with the spaghetti, Coirpre?”

“Oh, no! But I figured you’d be less burdened if you didn’t have to cook for me.”

“… Did I ever complain having to cook for us? You start practicing a sport. I thought you’d be _hungry_ ,” I respond, suddenly remembering Ares and the snacks his aunt packed for him.

“Sometimes I’m just, so tired,” he says, pushing his plate after eating so little. “I’ll wash them.”

I watch him walking to the sink with our plates in his hand. Limping, Miss Grahnye said. Limping…

“Coirpre?”

“Ah! Y-yeah?”

The plates fly smoothly out of his hands, landing against the floor. Cracking sounds color my kitchen as the white plates in his hands evolve into fractal pieces. My little brother _pales._ “I—I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright. It’s alright, I’ll clean it up. Are you injured?”

“N-no…”

“It’s okay, Coirpre, sssh, hey, it’s just plates. If you’re tired, get some rest,” I spare him a smile as I search for the dustbin and broom. “I tell you what, let’s get you the instant lunchies. Grab your jacket!”

“Alright,” he runs out of the kitchen. Maybe the upcoming match gets to him…

I cast the broken plates into the trashcan. Pulling out my purse to check for the cash I have, I grab my keys, comb my hair and redo my ponytail. My little brother reappears with a jacket and trousers, and I smooth my dress as I grab my own cardigan to head out. “Wish we had a car to drive,” I chuckle, holding his hand in mine. “Let’s hope I land something big soon! Hey, do you like cars?”

It takes about fifteen minutes or so to get to the grocery store near us by foot. I hold Coirpre as I always would each time we are out, in the midst of vehicles passing by us. Coirpre seems to begin to feel at ease. I forgot that he actually likes the outside world, the neon lights crowning the streets at night. He is studious and introverted so he largely spends his time at home, but he does fancy a change of air every now and then. I’m glad I take him out tonight. We gingerly cross the street, and I tighten my hold against him. I only hope the warmth transfers too…

He nearly stumbles on his feet. A car speeds just right beside us.

“Hey, can you not drive like a barbarian?!” I shout at the car. I would have given it a finger if Coirpre was not here with me. What the heck? Coirpre shivers. I put my arm around his waist. He pulls closer to me.

Fucking shit of a car pulls into the store’s parking lot. The driver is out, looking so sour that I would have thought that this is not a person, but a human frozen yoghurt! He’s got long orange-ish blond hair, long face with defined cheekbones and flat, short bangs… oh, right. Another rich Jugdral-U STEM lord—Scipio.

“If you’ve got a crippled brother then perhaps you shouldn’t let him out at the street, lady,” he hisses. “Oh, wait. You’re Jugdral-U’s Instagram diva. Wouldn’t expect you to be smart in the first place.”

“Crippled, Scipio? Really?” I mutter under my breath. “Get in the store, Coirpre.”

“Sis.”

“Now,” I speak in my older sister tone again—stern and commanding. Coirpre glances at Scipio and me, and to my surprise, he _stares_ at Scipio like he’s some disgusting, foul entity needs to be purged.

“Do not hurt my sister.”

… Where did my little brother learn to _growl_ like that?

“First of all, Scipio, my brother is not a dog,” I glare at him. “And you drove like a madman.”

“Oh, right. So, did I hurt anyone or not? How much do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what you wanted to say, right?” Scipio shrugs. “I’m making it easy for us here. No need to get teary-eyed and pathos-begging on a video rant or something. Isn’t that the trend these days, IG Diva?”

“… Scipio, it’s not a trend. Some people are struggling, even if someone arrogant, cruel, and _rich_ like you refuses to know!” I shake my head. “You almost hit my brother.”

“We hardly even talk at school and now you called me adjectives. Wise, Lene,” he sneers at me. “Being cute while poor doesn’t give you a free pass, you know. This isn’t an escorting industry.”

“As if your money doesn’t already grant you that,” I roll my eyes at him, taking a hold of Coirpre who seems to be troubled as he steers his legs into the store. “If you injure him, I swear I’ll _ruin_ you.”

“I wonder. Would love to see you try, dear,” he smirks. “Want my lawyer’s number?”

“Wow. Eat shit, Scipio,” I shake my head again, ignoring him snickering and commenting how uncivilized my mouth is. As if his implying I’m a whore is civilized enough to do. Sigh. I’ve got a temper, yes. But that means I’m… human too. And Scipio acts like he’s some Victorian royalty venturing London streets only to find me whoring at an alley trying to get some pennies while exploiting my little brother.

… If I had a car on my own, Coirpre won’t…

“You sure you want these?” I quickly stop what ifs-ing when Coirpre loads a pack of instant lunch and peanut sandwich into our basket. He only gives a small nod. I decide to just buy. Questions can wait. Meanwhile that carton of eggs seems like a good deal. And hold on, those baguettes don’t even look great but the price is comforting. Hmmm, jelly powder. And ah, the canned corned beef over there…

Scipio strolls again, this time with Julius, Ishtar, and Meng in tow. They look flashy as shit—I mean, Ishtar and Meng are truly dolled up from head to toe. Ishtar dresses gracefully as she always does, but despite the cozy, ‘homey’ nuance her purple sleeveless summer maxi dress gives out, there’s no way that one is a cheap piece. And gods, Meng rocks a pair of Manolo Blahnik. Which she wears to groceries. Julius’ unbuttoned black Armani blazer accentuates his shirt, but I bet that one costs more than two hundred.

“Lene!” Ishtar smiles, waving at me. “Shopping?”

I awkwardly wave back. Scipio still snickers, and Meng is too busy eyeing some chocolate bars to maim me. Ishtar speaking to another person automatically catches Julius’ attention, and he just smiles. Lately his smile can appear so wicked like I don’t know if he says good morning or good mourning…

“Only that for both of you?” Julius appears genuinely surprised when he sees our basket. Meanwhile they are taking a cart, loaded with everything that is good, delicious, and… expensive.

“Well, I only live with my brother here, so,” I try to sound indifferent. “Partying?” I dart a glance at the cart. Beautiful prime meat cuts. Sparkling wine. Snacks. Ground beefs. Buns. Nutella bottles…

“We’re having barbeque with the Frieges,” Julius replies, pulling in Ishtar to kiss her. “And no Reinhardt.”

“Go on before us,” Ishtar kindly gestures at me before pointing at the cashier lane with her chin. “After all, we shop plenty. It shouldn’t take long until they finish ringing yours.”

“That seems to be the treat brand I give my dogs,” Scipio points out at the canned corned beef I took. One sharp commanding stare from Ishtar turns him into a silent statue. Amazing.

“Oh, cool. That sounds cute actually,” I chuckle it off. I’m not going to cower. No way.

Ishtar’s regal stare pretty much keeps the wolves at a bay because Scipio wisely keeps his cakehole shut as they wait in line to pay. Ishtar is about to draw banknotes out of her open purse, but Julius casually drops his Mastercard Gold card on her palm. “Don’t stop until drop, babe. The money works for me.”

“Thanks,” Ishtar smooches Julius’ forehead, looking so incredibly awkward since Julius practically just flashed his wealth like that. Mastercard GOLD. The heir of Velthomer real estate empire has a Gold and he is not even twenty-two yet. … Gods.

Suddenly I wish the cashier would ring my purchase faster. I want to leave. I want to—

“I’m sorry, it seems you’re short by a ten,” the cashier startles me. “Your card. Tried to input it, but…”

“Declined?”

They nod in the manner wishing they wouldn’t have to. I make a grunting sound out of reflex. I guess I forget to load the rest of my money into the bank, or I forget to fill up my ATM, or... simply because I have no money. I growl, scraping pennies and coins to complete the solo five-dollar bill in my purse, remembering the thirty I set aside at home for either Lionheart Kitchen or Master Cakes for Coirpre.

“What happened?” Ishtar cranes her neck behind me.

“Troubling the cashier by paying in coins, I guess,” I chuckle again. Coirpre is drawing a ten out of his jacket, and I sharply mutter a _No._ “We know it’s for your ice cream after this.”

“Lene,” Ishtar whispers, sliding something into my palm and clams it shut. I gasp out of reflex, and…

“… Ishtar, no…” if I could choke on my own breath, I would be. She just… gave me money.

“It’s alright. Come on, buy everything else you need. It’s just my money, not Julius’.”

 _Just my money,_ she said. _Buy everything you need._ It must be so nice to always have the money you need at your disposal. But exactly… “No, Ishtar. Thank you so much, I appreciate it.”

“It’s just grocery. How much it will be anyway… a hundred?” she presses my arm. “It’s okay.”

“Exactly why you will never understand!”

All eyes are on me now. Why… did I snap at Ishtar? Beggars can’t choose. Beggars can’t—

Ishtar looks appalled. “Well,” she says, like regaining her self-control back, “then take the ten. Please. Your brother needs his food, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I nod, my eyes start to get blurry all of a sudden. “Sorry for what happened earlier.  Thank you, Ishtar.”

She nods, and I hand the money she made me take to the cashier. They look relieved for being freed of having to throw out my purchase out of the register. The moment the purchase is bagged, I take Coirpre’s arm in a rush like we’re missing a plane.

My brother tumbles on his shoes again. “You sure you don’t want any, Sis?” Coirpre eyes me as we get closer to the McDonald’s ice cream stand merely steps away from the grocery store.

“No,” I muster a smile, ruffling his hair. “So I’ll wait here while you queue. Enjoy the ice cream!”

“Alright then! Remember, if a bad guy approaches, just call on me!” he flexes his arms at me, grinning.

“I’m still taller than you,” I giggle, ruffling his hair again. “I appreciate the courtesy though, dear squire.”

My little brother huffs and begrudgingly leaves to queue for the ice cream. Tonight is pretty hot; no wonder people crowd the ice cream stand. From where I stand I can hear Coirpre mumbling how he won’t get extra topping to mind the price. A pair of mother and daughter walks to their car, close to where I’m standing. The little daughter whispers something to her mother, whom in turn looks at me…

“It’s probably going to get cold. Hope it will be enough for a warm food,” the well-meaning mother puts a twenty dollar bill on my hand. I’m too stunned to say anything. I’m not a beggar. I—  

… There must be tears at the corner of my eyes because the whole world appears foggy to me…

I jump when I hear a klaxon beside me. A motorcycle pulls into the grocery store area, taking a ticket. I unconsciously step aside for fear of getting blasted by incoming shoppers in their vehicles. Coirpre is still queuing, and judging from his expression, I know he’s getting indecisive about the ice cream.

The motorcycle driver has settled on a line and by now is taking off his helmet and locking his mount.

But—hold up. Tall, blond, and mullet. That’s…

He does walk to my direction, waving at me with his gloved hand. Again they are black leather gloves to match his black leather jacket. I’m not gonna lie—he looks pretty badass in that attire. “Hi, Ares!” I spare him a smile, quickly turning away to wipe my tears. “Shopping?”

“My aunt is in the hospital. My uncle is waiting on her, but their kitchen needs a refill,” he nods. “You?”

“Hospital? Gods, I’m so sorry. Is she alright?”

“Yeah. Just too exhausted for baking too many casseroles…” he replies innocently. “Comical, huh?”

“Admittedly,” I giggle along. “I feel bad for finding it funny.”

“You shouldn’t. I wish she could see you laughing so she realizes how ridiculous everything is. She’s been at a food cold war against my mother before it escalated into a Cuban missile crisis,” he sighs sullenly. “And they made me eat everything they cooked. Everything. My cousins were spared somehow.”

“Tell them to stop before you get taller,” I laugh again. “Do lion demons still grow after twenty?"

“Allegedly no. We’re so uncreative that we copied humans,” the corner of his mouth faintly twitches again as he appears to be amused. “Sorry for honking at you, but you blankly wandered back and forth.”

“It’s alright. At least you warned me. Scipio’s car almost grazed my little brother…”

“Scipio?” he cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, that Jungby hateball.”

“You spoke of him as if marking him,” I point out.

“If I am?”

“This is no brooding o’clock,” I put my hands on my hips. “Your eyes spelled everything.”

“… You’re looking into my eyes?”

“Ares, if eyes can scream bloody murder, yours already succeed!” I respond, feeling a bit better. He’s so sympathetic, perhaps that’s what made everything feel better the moment he showed up to chat. Well, I wish he wouldn’t—notice, alright—considering he showed up like a badass action movie protagonist flipping his hair in style the moment he took that helmet off.

“That makes everything easier then,” he grins. “Not queuing for the ice cream?”

“No. I only wait on my little brother,” I gesture at Coirpre.

“… That’s your little brother?” his eyes bulge.

“Uh, yes?” I ask, anxious that he’ll make… unkindly comments pertaining him.  I featured Coirpre in my video once for a mindless video blogging about cooking a lunchbox some time ago. Some people were just so amazed that my brother is a studious preppy kid because they imagined me… well, wild, perhaps.

“Bragi!” he raises his voice. “Hey, Thracia’s Coirpre Bragi!” My little brother is startled when he heard his name being called—let alone me, because… how did he know Coirpre’s name?

“You know Coirpre?” dumbfounded, I glance at him and my brother back and forth.

“No, stay in line,” he quickly gestures at Coirpre when my little brother seems wanting to approach him. “Bragi siblings are such hopping rabbits,” he chuckles. “I coach his team. He talks about you often.”

“… You WHAT?” now it’s my turn to be surprised. Oh, right. Back then I caught Diarmuid pleading him about it. But I wouldn’t—expect—“You’re Diarmuid’s sub?”

Shy red shades emerge on his cheeks at an instant. “Lene, I’m his cousin,” he clears his throat.

“I know! You have similar blond hair and…” my voice quickly dies the moment I realized everything. “Gods. Oh. My. God. Ares—I—I mean. Substitution for Diarmuid. I DID NOT—Gods, I’m sorry!“

“It’s alright, rabbit,” he chuckles, waving his hand around. “No. The team is my responsibility this season. Diarmuid is an alumnus, so they reached out to him about that. But he has semester credits to catch up.”

“If you call me rabbit again, I won’t be so merciful next time,” I smile sweetly, yanking his mullet.

“Duly noted, Miss Leporidae.”

“Comforting, Mister Felidae,” I huff, releasing his hair. Peeking at him from under my lashes… and no, not to admire him this time—ahem. I mean. SHIT, let me finish!!—I notice he just… joked. And did not even protest when I yanked his hair like that. I imagined he’d at least shoot one of those legendary death stares at me, blasting some badass-sounding ominously SCARY warning and whatnot. But he just…

… Oh, right. For a second I thought he looked itching for a fight when I talked about Scipio.

“Hi, Coach!” Coirpre quickly strolls in after he gets his ice cream. Perhaps it’s just me, but Ares’ eyes look pretty fiercely-sharp when Coirpre walks back and forth bouncing around us. “You know my sister?”

“I happen to. Can I chat her up, or am I a no?” For a moment I thought he looks so kind, speaking in a respectful tone to Coirpre like that. It’s like he acknowledges Coirpre like the man my little brother is, regardless of how young he is or how… scrawny he appears to be. Although it makes me feel rather sour in a way because he only fuels Coirpre to act like… _a man,_ perhaps it’s a good thing for Coirpre to have an adult who understands. Oh, right, Coirpre’s noble quest of so-called ‘big man in the making’.

“What if it’s a no, Coach,” Coirpre suddenly sneaks his arm around my waist.

“Then I’ll just go,” Ares merely nods. The kind look in his eyes does not change…

“Nooo Coach, wait!” Coirpre tugs on him. “Gods. You’re as bluntly honest as you are at the field.”

I make a finger gun gesture at Ares, who scratches his head sheepishly. “So, is my brother troubling you so far? He isn’t really the sporty type, so I can only hope that you are patient with him,” I take a jab at Coirpre. “I’m not saying this to make you embarrassed, Coirpre, but as your coach he needs to know about you. I do that with the girls I coach too. Sometimes I have to ask for history of injuries, joint problems and all that so I don’t assign roles for the ones who can’t take it!” I quickly add before Coirpre protests.

“Yes. That’s a good coach,” Ares quirks a smile.

“You always take her side when I complained about her,” Coirpre smiles wryly, his tone sullen.

“Oh, you shield yourself behind him,” I put my hands on my hips, acting all displeased and sulky because of how _sour_ Coirpre appears to be. But if he can chirp about me to Ares, does that mean they… bond?

“It’s because you worry about me too much,” Coirpre remarks.

“Sorry for loving you, I guess,” I stick my tongue at Coirpre. “You want to be in the team and play in the match, so I try preparing the best for you! I’m also coaching and my routines have exercises too, so of course I’d want to support you. Come home win or lose, but give your best fight regardless!”

“See, Coach,” Coirpre mutters.

Ares pauses. “… Ah,” he says, like he’s amused. Because why are his eyes light up like that? It’s like he’s trying to smile but having to do so in codes! D-did I say something ridiculous? Or is it because he’s a foot taller than me that he finds it funny, saying I’m coaching those middle-schoolers when… I got mistaken as one. Sigh.

… Alright, he has not said anything so far (yet!) but explain why the way he quirks those lips to firm a faint smile somehow reminds me of maple syrup. Ugh, confusing. Hey, Ares, if you are indeed only alleged human, why don’t you just tell me your species?! It’s not like you can’t surprise me more than you already have been so far!

… Wait, he can. I wouldn’t even think he coaches Coirpre! Aaaaah!

“If you want to say I’m short and looking like a bouncing furball, better say it now or hold your peace,” I turn my attention to Ares. “We’ll share the field though. Come on, I can take it. Say anything you want.”

“Anything?” he replies, his voice sounding rather husky this time.

“Yeah, anything! What, do you think I’m scared of you?! I don’t even like Twilight and a sparkly vampire never succeeded to impress me, so let alone you, a blond lemon diamond!”

“Lemon… diamond?”

“LION DEMON! I misspoke!! My brain autocorrected me!” gods, I want to hide! What the heck, he drops his octave and my brain short-circuited?! What is happening? What if Ares can manipulate people’s minds? T-then he’s dangerous. How do I contact the FBI saying there’s a sleeper extraterrestrial agent lurking around here without them laughing at me? “O-okay. Say whatever you want—!”

I shouldn’t stand with a red face like this. I’m Coirpre’s OLDER sister! Emphasis on older, mind you!

“Alright,” Ares chuckles a little. “Then ease her doubts, Coirpre,” suddenly he puts his hand gently on Coirpre’s shoulder. “Heed her. After all, she is a coach too.”

… Eh…

“You’re… kind,” I murmur. Nobody ever bothered to appreciate me—and Coirpre, us… like that before.

“Trust me, I’m not,” he mutters firmly, but delivers it with a soft head shake.

“Really? I don’t think so. You just pep-talked my brother,” I point at his nose.

“And that makes me kind to you? How kind,” he chuckles back. “So… home after this?”

Coirpre nods. “We’ll just cross the road and walk back to our apartment. That building over there.”

“I can cross the road and walk a little bit more,” Ares ponders. “Only if your sister allows me, though.”

“Wow. I would have thought that you _fear_ my sister, Coach,” Coirpre grins.

“But why wouldn’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, basically Lene messaged Lionheart Kitchen around the time Lachesis was being hospitalized as how it went in the Star Chefs fict.
> 
> In case anyone wondering, "ippon" in judo and karate is a winning point awarded for a perfectly executed technique, commonly when the opponent is pinned or held on the back for 20 seconds and more in judo or a move the opponent can hardly counter in karate, usually a kick to the head.


	6. Not Like That

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Look at this beautiful pudding >:3 that one over there is the leftover spaghetti… _

**_larceiheyhey_** _Oh wow that looks untouched BUT THE PUDDING IS GORGEOUS._

 ** _dancedancerebellion @larceiheyhey_** _Yeah my little bro is probably embarrassed taking lunchboxes haha! Drop by Larcei you can have a bite :3 then we can study. Sooo glad to find the jelly powder!_

 ** _larceiheyhey_** … _It begins_ **_@dancedancerebellion_** _he starts growing into a man, huh?_

 **_etluxintenebrislucet_ ** _I’m so sorry Sis **@dancedancerebellion** I had no idea you made PLENTY_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _It’s alright~! If my cooking bores you, let’s just order tonight **@etluxintenebrislucet**_

I flip the book in my hand. I’ve taken the book Ares checked out for me to my bed to read, and until today it’s still there with me unreturned! Why, I do feel rather concerned about Coirpre. What if I speak to Ares about it? Ares sees Coirpre at school in a raw setting—a bunch of boys practicing soccer and all that. I suppose emotion should be more visible compared to the restraint he shows me or even his behavior of evading me at home. Coirpre seems to… well, respect Ares to a degree. He’s never been like this before, perhaps it’s because Ares is the coach, but…

… But I don’t think that is wise. … Sigh. I never thought trying to be a good sister will be so hard.

Speaking of Ares, what did he mean that night again—fearing me? What is it about me that scares him? I’m a total spaghetti compared to him. I don’t have murderous biceps like he does, and certainly he is intimidating in the rawest, purest definition possible even without that black leather jacket. Perhaps I can ask him a thing or two without having to appear like I’m trying to spy on Coirpre. After all, if Coirpre is troubled, shouldn’t he catch up as the team’s coach?

I have been running into Ares again and again, yet somehow I kept forgetting all the things I wanted to ask him! It’s even as simple as the due date of this book he checked out for me, and the gods know when I can see him again because despite his regular use of the sports hall, he seems to be quite… mobile. It’s like he is only there when he wants the other person to find him! … So, alleged demon, then? He doesn’t even post much on Instagram. Hmmm, he always replies when I sent him direct messages though, so perhaps I can contact him there?

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _The book **@anblacknight** borrowed for me has been so helpful so far:)_

 **_pheeew_ ** _D-did you take Black Knight’s book hostage **@dancedancerebellion** let’s make you a passport_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _What for?? I can’t travel **@pheeew** lololoool I don’t even have $ for groceries!_

 ** _pheeew_** _What if he comes for you **@dancedancerebellion** PROTECT THE PRINCESS AT ALL COSTS_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _Then I can return the book? :O_ **_@pheeew_** _Come get me Ares ^^ **@anblacknight**_

I should probably just ask for his number. But somehow I feel… shy. I don’t usually be the one to ever ask for a guy’s number. Of course asking for his number is just for the sake of convenience, alright—after all he helped me study, and he now coaches my brother. But still, there’s this shyness I can’t explain! Texting and chatting him up while lying in bed alone at night? Shouldn’t be a big deal, right? … H-hold on. I’m not that curious of him, alright. I am not. Besides, who even is he? God of war getting his ass grounded by his supreme god father that he has to mingle with us humans and go to school?

Did I picture myself chatting him up in my bed like that?! Ridiculous!!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hey Ares look at my take on your book. Y/N_

It’s just Instagram-chatting! It’s not like I’m texting him in bed and then fawning at the screen waiting for him to reply.

… Alright, I’m in my bed. But I’m studying—there _is_ a difference, excuse you, and I decide to just contact Ares to discuss the book with him. After all he used it before. And yeah, practically I have my phone with me chatting him up, but AGAIN it’s because I don’t have his number and calling is so weird these days, you know? Besides, what can happen? And yeah, I’m now resting against the pillow with my back on the bed, but then again wouldn’t you want to read and text comfortably?

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Forseti approved?_

His reply came quicker than I thought. It’s almost like he also has his phone in hand or something. Haha, will be funny if he too is lazily lying in bed or something! … Uhhh. I take that back. Nooo. What a copycat.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Wow you replied fast :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I’m in my bed. My phone is close to me._

… N-no way.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_COPYCAT COPYCAT COPYCAT WHY ARE YOU IN BED I’M ALSO IN BED_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I just finished sketching. Oh, so we’re texting in bed then. I see._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _IT’S NOT TEXTING, NOT TEXTING, JUST INSTAGRAM DIRECT MESSAGE_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _… Alright?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I bet your sheet is black too. Or what if you have some anime pillow or something similar._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
No, rabbit._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
HAHAHA EVERY MAN SAYS THAT_

Silence. Oookay. Hey, maybe I was right after all. And he’s probably looking around feeling so ashamed and all that. Meh, too embarrassed, huh?

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Really?_

He sent me a photo…

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_… Sunset? :O_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_My window has a nice view._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
It is! What a beautiful sunset! ^^ Did you share this to hide your anime pillow? ;P_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… I was just thinking there might not be anything pretty enough in my room to show you, so._

Huh…? He took a photo of a sunset because he was self-conscious of… his bedroom’s aesthetics?

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Oooh you are so kind ^^_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Kind?_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_In Human, we say that to mean we are treating each other nicely :P what is it in Lion?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
‘Your literature review is great’._

… Oh, Ares.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Speaking of which, yes, Forseti approved. I wish he wouldn’t smirk when he asked if I got it from the arch dept =__=;; so, back then landscape paintings rose to prominence as a way to plan cities, right?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Yeah. They started as some idealization of what should be, also based on idealization of historical sites like you mentioned to me at the library, but when industrial revolution began the cities practically turned into a swamp because of bad sewer system and all that. Then those rich lords began to realize that the cities were poorly planned. Hold on, I’ll send you a picture of my note._

Attached picture. … His bullet journal has leather covering and the color is black too. Quite regal actually!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Your handwriting is pretty neat~! But I’m not losing. #aesthetic #studyspo_

I send him a snap of my own notes.

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Why are some sections in glittery pink?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
To highlight their importance?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
But there’s a marker for that._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Oooh I have it as well! Watch._

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _… It’s also pink._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You don’t own a pink glittery pen?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
NO, NEVER IN MY ENTIRE LIFE OR WILDEST DREAM._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _But pink is cute!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
That, I know._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
So even if it’s supposed to be about spatial design the concern was still about the prestige of art?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _More or less. Instead of fixing this and stop fawning over -their- own idealization of beautiful landscape and how it should look on paintings, those upper class barons from France wanted to do an artsy movement. It’s like restoring the cities to give it a beautiful place—of this idea of how it was, but it only sparked more anger because it’s like erasing what actually happened and kicked common folks out of the picture. Besides, houses were being demolished to erect landmarks that would appear in paintings._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _What the hell do you know about pink._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
But would you think that modern-day landscape art is related to the landscape architecture itself beside the… business of drawing and sketching an urban living itself?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
You._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes, because there was this idea of making all kinds of landscape to be integrated with everything else around them, for example a cemetery but also a picnic place where people can sit like in the park. Sounds weird, but there was this idea of so-called wholisticism which aimed to make natural landmarks expanded by functionality. Probably hoping to create a cheaper and integrated living environment._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
So you think I’m cute~?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Interesting. What do you think? To be able to live in harmony with the natural landscape around you sounds great though. I’m not sure to what extent and whether it’s applicable everywhere, though._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
My thoughts exactly. Is it blending with nature or exploring nature even more invasively if every land is a fair game like that? I do think untouched nature is still good. If anything, that can sustain urban jungle._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Hmmm?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I think I’ve got the literature studies covered then! I want to return the book, can we meet up??_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Haha, I was just teasing you ^^;; forget it forget it_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Sure. We have a project exhibition tomorrow at Maera Hall. I’ll be there around lunch._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I don’t forget._

* * *

 

… Maera Hall during lunch, huh…

For some reason I can’t really fathom, I could not sleep well last night! What gives?! Coirpre is no longer sneaking into my room—alright, perhaps by then I was already too tired to notice that. I must have woken up more than half-dead, because I was quite disoriented! First thing first, Coirpre seemed to think I was possessed. And I did not even really pay attention to whatever it was I took from my vanity when getting ready. I don’t actually have much to do today, so perhaps I’ll just drop by at Tirnanog to chit-chat Seliph and see if there’ an opening for me. Perhaps this is a good thing, though. This time I can finish my written assignments so I won’t feel too irritated for having undone chores after getting home from coaching Thracian girls the other day.

Opening my closet, I decide to quarantine my beloved wedges this time. I need to coach the girls, and if I’m looking for a gig, I better take care of my legs too. I’m not going to at least appear too exhausted on stage that I need to compensate lively, active leg maneuvers with more hand movements because I’m withering like a pine tree losing its needles in the winter!

… T-that’s actually a pretty gory idea, for your limbs to fall off like that.

My hair is already dry enough to style. Aaaa, rise and shine, and that includes my hair! I love how soft and fragrant it is. I love this whole refreshed sensation you get after you bathe even though sometimes some days it takes three bulldozers to drag you to your own shower.

I’m practically still in my towel when I load everything I need that day into my bag. Pencil case? Check. … Yeah it’s a fluffy Hello Kitty one, sue me. Basic kits? Check. I have the tissue, my go-to lip gloss and everything… oh, yeah, the pastilles… my tumbler too because stay hydrated, lovelies~!

And now onto school stuff! I decide to leave my laptop at home this time because if anything I’ll just take handwritten notes if I’m to do literature study again. Turns out I absorb better that way because studying with your own computer is distracting! I can type one A4-sized something and the next thing I know, I’m already watching my fourth Phantom of the Opera clips in the span of half an hour. Sigh.

… Speaking of which…

Ah, yes, Ares’ book. Alright—the book Ares borrowed for me. But still. Eh, his book.

I scroll down the direct messages I received from Ares. Come to think of it, lately we’ve been texting… ahem, _exchanging Instagram direct messages!!_ quite often. It’s like almost everyday since I added him back there will always be something to talk about, even if it means trolling him.

… And that sunset photo… he did not post it as a regular update, huh? I would have done it if I’ve got a room with a nice view. So that was… for me? Like, for me- _for me_?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Mooorning Aresss what do you call a salty anti-Tsarist Russian activist~?_

No reply.

Somehow I feel like… questioning myself. Why did I even send it? Why do I have this urge to chat him again each day after… engaging him as well the night prior?! This has to be a curse. He must be a demon.

Okay, you have not replied me even though ten minutes have passed. Nooo big deal. After all I shouldn’t even engage you in the first place. After all I’ve never had this urge to interact with an alleged android, lion demon, or whatever your species actually is. After all it’s not like I actually _quite_ enjoyed our banters so far. After all I should have known I’m not entitled to any of your replies, alright?!

… H-hold on a little bit. I’ve never been this impatient before. I mean, sure, I send memes and lame jokes back and forth with Larcei, Fee, and Lana all the time. Sometimes it gets so crass and dirty because we are supposed to be big girls now, but I mean. I MEAN. It’s not like I’m anticipating to wake up with my phone beside me to see a reply from the other night!! So WHAT is going on?!

Wehhh, there was not anything saucy or racy between me and Ares so far, yet I still want to… chat?

… This is ridiculous. Perhaps his aura contaminated the book since it is checked out under his name. I have to break the curse by returning the book to him as soon as possible. Hmmm, perhaps I can throw some salt on it first to dispel the magic? Will the librarian notice that the book has been… err, violated?

No, no. This won’t do. Let me reiterate—we are just exchanging direct messages! Not chatting!!

Huh, the notification light flashes…

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Red Herring?_

He replied! I thought he was dead!!

… I mean. OF COURSE he had to. He got a new message. Only normal that he replied!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Nooo Ares it’s Lemon Troutsky! 8)_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
…._

What, he went silent all of a sudden!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _ARES ARE YOU ALRIGHT WAS IT CARDIAC ARREST OH HOLD ON GO TO THE HOSPITAL DON’T TEXT BACK IF IT WAS_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_  
** _*Direct message I mean, not texting!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Ah_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Sorry, I_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
*snorted so hard I knocked my mom’s eggs_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
**BREAKFAST eggs I mean_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Sorry for the late reply, I was out in the yard training._

Training. He did say he trains and works a lot. Okay, deliveries. But training…

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… You drive trains?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Haha, I wish!_

A ‘haha’. So that’s… truly something, huh?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Just to confirm again, the Maera Hall tryst_

… FUUUUU—

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
*THING_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
**I MEAN WE ARE STILL GONNA MEET UP AT MAERA HALL RIGHT?_

 ** _anblacknight_  
** _Yes._

Oh, okay. Glad that’s cleared up because contrary to popular belief, doing nothing can also make you busy as well. If the schedule is clear, sure I can make some time for Ares. Sure. After all, he forgot to tell me the book’s due date. I’d assume there would be at least four days left until it truly needs to be returned! So like… it’s not like I’m _dying_ to see him or anything. Hahaha, why would I be dying just because of the idea that I might not see you as I typically would? People need oxygen to live, not an alleged lion demon.

But still, now that it’s cleared up… suddenly my closet appears more divine than it actually is! Usually getting dressed is annoying because—yeah, I made that post advocating inspiration and saving money to free you from frustration inside-out—wallet-ically, psychologically because looking at the clothes you have makes you want to hunt for rhino poachers and kill them with your bare hands. But even I, a beauty blogger, get cranky too because of this! Hnnn, perhaps this morning my stars are in perfect conjunction or something. Yeah, literal dark closet, show me all the cute dresses I don’t wear often!

… Now hold on…

Well, why were they even bought if I wouldn’t be wearing them?! See, it’s easy. It’s just a fine morning after all, and being more than half-dead, I suppose I want a change.

Without further ado, I take out a criss-cross dress out of my closet. Its base color is white with nice floral-print roses at the bottom and bust-back area! It’s also of midi-length, and more importantly, has that vintage or retro pin-up style making it appear sweet and fitting for the summer. Flat oxfords follow after, the third shoes I have after the wedges and the comfortable soft canvas shoes. I love this pair of oxfords, it’s classic and elegant, with the brown color and classic blue accents on the upper foot area. Heheheh, I feel better somehow. Like there’s this comforting confidence even though practically I was half-dead nearly half an hour prior.

I take a glance at my watch, rushing out of the room with Ares’ book in my hand to find Coirpre grinning at me. In a sheepish manner, though. “I tried eating a lot of that but there’s still much of it,” he says, pointing at the container where I kept the spaghetti to lock in the fridge.

Loading Ares’ book and the rest of the things I need, I clasp my chin, contemplating the hapless spaghetti Coirpre has set on the table. “I think I’ve got an idea. Besides, I need lunch too,” I grin back. “Can you please fetch me another lunchbox, my little Coirpre~?”

“I’m not little,” Coirpre sulks, yet still does what I asked for.

“Sorry, not-little Coirpre,” giggling, I begin to fix the spaghetti into the lunchboxes.

“Uuuu, Sis,” he responds sullenly. “But see, you are the one who needs to eat a looot!”

“Sometimes I’m too tired for anything else when I get home,” I grab a tote bag for that extra lunchbox. “But do not worry, my squire! This time I’ll heed you.”

“For real?” Coirpre looks anticipatingly at me. “The Coach says you’ll be happy if I eat my lunches.”

“Of course! After all, we shouldn’t waste food.”

“The Coach also says he does not waste food,” Coirpre remarks again.

“I know he does not…” my words come out rather trailed for remembering Ares’ cake at the library. “Now off I am. Be a great kid at the field and even greater at school, alright?” I ruffle his hair. “Don’t forget, wait for the next train if it’s too crowded for you to get in! I’ll talk to your teachers if you are late.”

“… Lene?”

“Yes, Coirpre~?”

“Do I make you… worried? Like, a lot?”

Why do I need to leave when he seems to have something to spill out…

“Of course,” I respond in a soft voice. “Because regardless of what you do, I will always be concerned of your well-being. You’re my little brother, after all!”

“Is… that so…”

“Yes! Because we are family. And family does not abandon each other,” I squeeze his arms gently. “So just do your best at school, alright~? Listen—even if you did not win anything, I’d still be your sister.”

“Okay,” he smiles a little, and I ruffle his hair again before leaving.

* * *

 

Wow, Maera Hall has evolved!

But really, though—I thought I’m in a convention center. Maera Hall isn’t like, exceptionally big or anything, but there’s always this professional impression coming out of it because it’s mostly used to host something… solemnly professional, I must say. Alright, Ares has to be a senior since he’s older than me, but if the architecture department is hosting their senior projects there, then it sounds… so adult. S-so professional, I mean. Hey, perhaps it’s like a career convention center for those seniors! Now I’m interested to know what Ares made. Could it be the sketching he talked when he texted me… oh, sorry, when we exchanged direct messages on Instagram?

I think the seniors are still busy because they are either scattering around, nowhere to be found, or preparing the stands or frames or whatever it is they need for their installation. I’ve been mindlessly taking photos while admiring some projects here and there without Ares in sight. Alright, no problem. It’s still around eleven anyway. But is his project ready even though he’s not here yet?

“Hi, can I help you?” a voice startles me as I crane my neck here and there to locate Ares.

I turn around, finding a girl with beautiful long brown hair looking at me curiously, her ID tag dangling on her like a necklace. “Um, I was about to… uh, go to… landscape architecture’s section?”

“Landscape architecture?” she looks at me again. “Oh, wait. You look familiar. I think I saw you a couple of times around here when Leif brought his girlfriend. The Tirnanog dancer-friend?”

“Yes! It’s Lene,” I smile at her. “And you are… a senior? Or a model? Your hair is sooo pretty.”

She chuckles. “I do model, though… modeling skyscrapers,” she grins. “Altena. Leif’s sister. A senior as well. I’m displaying, but I’m also with the committee. Sooo, Lene, do you need anything?”

“Yes! And it’s Ares…” I blurt out oh-so-quickly, prompting her to frown a little bit.

“Ares,” she contemplates a little. “Tall blonde of the landscape architecture department?”

“Verily so!”

“Oh, he was here just a moment ago,” Leif’s sister speaks again. “I think he’s out to find some laser pointer because he will be presenting.”

“Oh, wow. Must be important.”

“His project is pretty daring, I must say,” she nods. “But if a contractor takes it, it will be grand.”

“Oh, I had no idea about it, really! I was just here to see the exhibitions. And for Ares, of course.”

“I see. Didn’t even know he’s got a girlfriend,” Altena chuckles again. “His aisle is over there.”

Girl… friend? Must be a mistake. She probably said _grill fiend._ Yes, fiends need to be grilled. “Oh, it’s just I have his book with me. Thank you, Altena! And you are so right, I’m pro grill fiend!”

“Huh? What…” Altena looks heller-than-hell-confused, but I did not catch what she said next because I’m already rushing to wherever Ares… or his project is supposed to be. Gods, thanks for dressing sensibly in flat oxfords today! Since he’s presenting they put his project near the conference section with a platform and panel tables. Wow. See, how come he is a delinquent? He’s so sure of everything!

I stop. Before me there’s a huge planning on a blue print, nicely framed and being displayed under the light. It’s signed, nicely marked with legends, and the title of the work is printed nicely befitting it.

_AGUSTRIA REBORN_

I’m scanning the little printed explanation which comes with it.

_For years, the Agustrian District has long been neglected. Unsanitary condition, hard bureaucracy which affects housing licenses have affected the most unfortunate, and this is a project of love and dedication meant to transform Agustria into a better district. Objectives include accessible housing complexes to combat homelessness, revitalization of the trees, and installing more communal buildings such as library and school to better livelihoods and overcome disparities of all Agustrians. This project is aimed to make Agustria a friendly place to settle in, for everyone, equally._

… I _know_ Ares is kind. I know it. But who would have thought that he is so… how do I say… tender like this? He wants to improve live quality of all Agustrians, which district is currently akin to PVP zone because of greedy landlords and corporate magnates who carve it like a pie. The formerly majestic and proud Agustria has deteriorated these past few years, and it’s like… nobody truly cares about it but here he is, with a simple dream he works on alone, yet ultimately includes others in the endgame.

… Why, Ares, why you…

 _Nordion, Ares Hezul.  
_ _Landscape Architecture Department / JUG-GRAN-LAS-00777_

… Nordion? His surname is… Nordion?

“Hey, hey, Lene! Did you find it?” I see Altena waving at me, approaching as she checks on the platform to make sure everything is running smoothly. “Okay, mic good, projector good. All function well.”

“Um. Y-yes. Yes, I think so,” my voice must have come as mumbling because she looks concerned.

“Why, are you unwell? Can it be that the air conditioner isn’t working? Heat weave?”

“Oh—no, no, I’m alright. So, Ares Hezul Nordion—“

“Haha, yeah! Even us here did not know his middle name,” Altena laughs again. “You too? Goodness.”

“Yes. Y-yes. I didn’t… uh, Altena, thank you so much! I think I’ll look for Ares outside and drag him here. You guys want him ready, right?” I try mustering a cheerful tone. Out of the interactions we had, out of the exchanged messages and replies between me with both Master Cakes and Lionheart Kitchen, he did not… tell? Why? Not telling me that he followed me is a thing. But like… why… do I feel being lied to? Or am I just… being too entitled of him? Is it simply because… he is nice to me so far?

… Nordion. Nordion, Nordion…

Still, it’s hard to think of him as a delinquent—villain—bloodthirsty Black Knight or what-have you. Back then he did not hesitate to apologize to me the moment he saw my point when we first argued. Back then he did not sweat that Coirpre pulled “I’m the brother” on him when I encountered him that night. And back then he did not hesitate to pick up de Valenciennes I dropped even if… it should be rather obvious that I did it on purpose. Back then he could just shoo me off his desk, and yet he did not even say anything even after I freely took a seat in front of him. He saved my phone, and still asked if I was alright. Not even making a fuss when I sprawled with my face flat against his. He was not… malicious.

… And come to think of it, that desk looked empty. It’s like people were evading him, and none even dared to steal his seat even if only to be used at another desk. How did he feel, people sitting and working in pairs, chatting friends as they studied, while he was just… there. Alone reading his book. And again, he hates theory classes. Yet there he was trying his best to catch up. And he was willing to share what his class taught him with me—without any bragging thing guys tend to do when they want to impress me. He flatly said he wasn’t the smartest kid in class, in a way that he welcomed me to correct him.

And then he told Coirpre… to be mindful of me.

He is so kind like that. Is it possible, though? My father abandoned me as a child, and like a curse I’ve been exposed to the unsavory kind of men—in which… perhaps my father is among them. I have a little brother to protect whom I fear drifting away as he enters puberty. How rich guys think art majors like me are strippers in the making in the most condescending way possible, and the smart ones look down on me like I have nothing valuable at all to say. Like I don’t think. Some others look at me in a way which either makes me shudder or disgusted when they know I’m a dancer. Some others are more sympathetic but in a way as if I need to be saved from myself.

… Then there’s Ares, who hardly bats an eye at pretty much everything I am. The Ares who did not hesitate to spare his Master Cakes for me, the way he did not think twice to help the old lady or sparing his coin for the kid who wanted ice cream. The way he carried on his morning even though he threw his jacket to shield the stray cats. The Ares who stood up for the Thracian girls that he was willing to engage a stranger in a fight for getting saucy with minors. The Ares who walked me and Coirpre until we were close to our apartment but never invited himself in; the Ares who bade us a goodnight before quickly rushing the road again to shop for his sick aunt.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Ummm. Ares, if you’re busy I can cancel._

I should be _speaking to_ him instead. But somehow I feel the need to… process. I’m still surprised to find that he’s a Nordion, but at the same time there’s this odd warmth when contemplating about Ares so I… think I need to lie down. Perhaps.

There is no reply. Maybe he’s busy putting everything he has into that ambitious project. But…

I decide to just bait him. Posting a selfie standing near the entrance of Maera Hall, I retort to Instagram.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _To the tall blond lion demon **@anblacknight** of the arch dept: your book, or your head on a pike~?_

… Sigh. This is ridiculous. Ridicu—huh, direct message?!

 **_thunderingwithpride  
_ ** _Sorry for this sudden message Lene, but I think I saw Nordion heading to the warehouse near sports hall._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _N-Nordion, huh._

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _  
The tall and blond Ares—the Nordion with a catering? Anyway, still need French?_

Catering?!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Eh—so you know him? Oh I’ll just DM you if I wanna ask some things, dat ok?_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _  
Sure. And knowing him is a diplomatic way to phrase it, I suppose. He is often with Leif by the weekends._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You’re with Ares in the weekends? Teeheeeee how romanticcc_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _  
NOoOoO. Leif and I fence and we spar sometimes. Sometimes he brings Nanna with the guy in tow. He fences saber & pretty good at it, you know? Deadpanned wall but his strikes are sharp._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You’re smitten._

 **_tunderingwithpride_ ** _  
NooOooOoOOOO it’s a brotherly match._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Sure, Reinrein, sure~ #bro_

 **_thunderingwithpride  
_ ** _I admire Nordion’s prowess but he’s still no Saias._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… Sorry? The co-ass and lab TA Saias Velthomer, med science grad bro?_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _  
Magnificent man inside and out!_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Oh, Reinhardt._

 **_thunderingwithpride  
_ ** _Brotherly affection in the spirit of knights of the old ages!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Oh, Reinhardt, my sweet, sweet, INNOCENT handsome Reinhardt…_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _  
Thank you! Still nothing compared to Saias, though!_

I end my direct message with Reinhardt, feeling even more confused than ever! It’s almost like I’m the last to know everything as everything has been hidden from me! And not only that. Okay, so not only does he coach soccer, he can fight, and now he can wield a sword. There is no way Ares is human. Alleged Greek Ares it is, or a demon. Why, this brooding nerd—but with gains! I don’t even care if Reinhardt tells me that Ares is an extraterrestrial being at this point. I have questions.

I stroll to the sports hall. Mission—finding Ares. In his natural habitat. And probably having 911 on speed dial in case I did find his flying saucer there. Why is he so aggravatingly… _intriguing_ without even trying?

Ares still has not responded, but I can hear something in the warehouse Reinhardt mentioned.

“I heard you are the notorious Black Knight.”

Black Knight… so Ares is there? Is he going to… fight again?

“What do you want?”

This time I can’t be wrong. It’s Ares. That voice is all I need to know that it truly is him.

“Heard someone played tough against my team member some other day,” the first guy responds. “Naturally I have to see you myself. Why, these stories about you sound so _dreamy_.”

I approach the warehouse. Gods, great that I’m wearing flats because I don’t make noisy footsteps!

“Sounds like you have a crush on me,” I can hear Ares snickering from wherever he is inside.

“… Did you seriously beat up my team member just because…” the other guy speaks again, but I can hear footsteps quickly follow after.

“There is no ‘just because’ here. He was being a creepy piece of shit to her. Honestly, rather than coming here professing your love and curiosity about me, you should discipline him instead, Captain.”

… Captain? Are they fighting about… me?! I need to know more. I have to get closer.

“Oh, boy. You of all people pulled that on me?! You’re not the one to give a moral crash course, Nordion. It’s just a dude trying to chat up a girl. Don’t be jelly just because your girl has an admirer.”

“It is not and I am not.”

I can only stare as Ares unkindly _glare_ at the row jock. If he previously acted like he couldn’t care less if the rowing captain decided to verbally chew him, this time he approaches closer in a way like he is signaling he carves the other guy’s face in his mind and that his fangs will follow sharply.

… He is marking… his prey…

“You can’t go against an entire team, Nordion,” the captain warns again.

“It’s just a fraternity cult with a bunch of entitled creeps. Don't I always, for these seasons?”

What?

“You’re going to risk your ass out of the ring again just for that?”

Ring?

“She’s got a name.”

… Eh…

“I’m just doing you a favor here,” the jock remarks sullenly. “Sounds like you’ve got a death wish.”

“Do I, or do you?”

I need to do something. Will they fight… here? In a warehouse full of tools which can be utilized to hurt people easily? Ares needs his presentation. His prided project is waiting. I won’t let anyone ruining it!

I open the door. I think my arrival has startled them more than I anticipated it would because both look at me, especially Ares who appears truly, truly surprised. I need to say something. I have to say something. I sense if I look distressed he may actually jump into the fight instead.

… After all he faces off with the rowing captain because of… me?

“Theeere you are, Ares~!” I smile at him, waving back and forth with my phone in hand. “I messaged you because I arrived sooner, but couldn’t find you at Maera Hall! Come on, everyone is waiting on you!”

“Ah…”

“Yes!~ I saw your blueprint, it’s MAGNIFICENT, oooo my God! That really is a unique project.”

“I—“

“Hnnn~? Something wrong? Altena already has everything ready for you! All you need to do is taking over the podium and wow your enthusiastic audience,” I smile at him again. “Go get them, lion.”

“I suppose…” he mutters, glancing at the jock again, but I quickly take his arm to lead him outside.

“Right~? You know what, if you don’t mind, I’ll take a seat too with the others! After all your project sounds like a labor of kindness! I know it, you’re so kind anyway!”

“Well,” he speaks in a low tone, yet not refusing when I just casually drag him away like that. “It’s—nothing. It’s just something I’ve been thinking for a while.”

“I don’t think so. Even Altena is impressed,” I wink at him again, completely ignoring the jock who looks at us confused and agape. And now that we are already out, I can breathe relief. Ares still has not said anything and I really want to ask about him being a Nordion, and on top of that the matter of ring the jock mentioned piqued my curiosity as well! What ring?! Is he involved in a dangerous situation or what?

“… Thank you.”

He is the first person to break the silence between us, and suddenly he thanked me? “Ah! What for?”

“… My. Still screaming, aren’t you,” his lips curve into the shape of a crescent moon, forming a pleasant faint smile. “If you did not stop me there, my adrenaline would have ruined everything I’ve been working on for these past weeks.”

He thanked me. _Me._ Me, whom he actually saved the other day. And even if he stood up for what is just at the sports hall back then, he isn’t even supposed to do any more than that. That jock captain seemed to be fuming because he thought Ares tarnished his oh-so-great club by easily overpowering his team member. But there he was, close to turn the warehouse into an arena while he has people expecting him to look… presentable, professional, like they are patting themselves in the back for giving the outcast a humane treatment just this once. And supposedly, this is also a perfect chance for Ares to get back at the people who have doubted him and dubbed him… many names.

Perhaps just like his blueprint at Maera Hall. Perhaps just like what Diarmuid said—if Ares has his mind set on something, he’ll do it. The way his blueprint is aimed to restore a district so that people… _other_ people… can live there—live _better_ in a region which treats its less-fortunate kinder. The way he did not need to drive me, but he still did. When he replied my messages no matter how ridiculously trollish they were. When he took his time to find me a book to help me after he said he would.

… And his voice was soft when saying that.

“R-really? Ummm. I’ve got your book,” I gesture to my bag, getting tongue-tied so suddenly. “But! If that’s what you think, then fine too! I’ve got your book and your back.”

He chuckles. “Thank you, my formidable warrior.”

Warrior… hold on, _your_ formidable warrior?!

“Hey, is it alright if I watch your presentation?” I poke his ribs, grinning. “You called me a warrior. Then I need my spoil of war after saving my damsel.”

“… If you so wish.”

“Heeehehe~ are you embarrassed? You’re sooo cute!” giggling, I yank his mullet… gently this time.

“Well, I was just—“

“Doing what you are supposed to do and people should not be enthusiastically waiting for you like that, is that it?” I make my voice deeper and heavier to imitate him. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. See, sometimes you just need to accept when people are nice to you. Because you are nice too!”

“Alright…”

“Your blueprint is great! You know what, Ares, I think you have a lot of love to give and that what makes you really kind! I read the legends—public library? Children-friendly park? Simple cheap flats to combat homelessness? Eco-friendly installations? What are you, an architect or a crusader~?”

“… A lot of love to give, huh?”

“Why are you smiling like that?” I huff, lightly tapping his cheek with my palm.

“Can’t I? This is a free country,” he _smirks._ “… You do have interesting thoughts.”

“Your eyes say you wanted to call me rabbit.”

“Busted.”

“Alright, here’s your book,” I finally take the damn thing out of my bag. And just then I realize the tote bag that has been dangling in my grip. W-well, I did… take a second lunchbox on purpose. I mean, I DID have a purpose! And since the book has saved my paper and won Professor Forseti’s approval, I… I thought I w-would…

… Why are my cheeks feeling warm so suddenly? I know this year’s summer is hotter than the previous year’s, but my dress is nice and I wasn’t like this at home. Hmmm, must be because the sun is above me now considering it’s noon.

“Ah, you shouldn’t have,” he responds, taking the book from me.

“Um. Are you going to… return to the hall now?”

“If you want to go before me, can you tell Altena that I request for a middle U for you?”

“Middle U?”

“Yeah. That way you can have the best seat at the front.”

W-why do I feel even _shyer_ when he suggested it? Altena already thought I wasn’t just some girl mindlessly walking into Maera Hall because they have a program today. Alright, admittedly, I understand why she seemed to have all these… assumptions because probably it’s a thin chance for a random girl to randomly walk into the architecture department’s exhibition, specifically asking for a participant, and… o-oh gods, I just realized Ares’ project was the only installation I took a good look at before rushing to look for him!! AAAAAA—

… Well, at least Altena did not assume I texted him in bed. Right?! DIRECT MESSAGES, mind you!!

“Ah, you shouldn’t have,” I copy his tone again, grinning. “But really though, you shouldn’t have! I’m alright taking any leftover seat. Just like at the library…” somehow I nearly lost my voice for that one.

“It’s my presentation. I have the right to seat whomever I want at any place I want,” he states, dead serious like I just tried to argue whether brachiosaurs actually wore bikini or not. “Besides…”

“That way I’ll get a clearer view since I’m short?”

“Your word, not mine,” he snorts, quickly retorting to mask it as a coughing fit. “No. Better you than any other audience being there.”

“Eeeh?”

“I don’t know them,” Ares merely shrugs, but his tone conveys a resolve. “And I won’t dare to say I know you. But I’m… used to have you bouncing around me. Virtually and not. It will be… comforting.”

“You have stage fright?” giggling, I poke him again without any reservation. “Perhaps you should take up dancing. And you know what, I can coach you! After all you are already athletic and fit. Encountering you at the sports hall all these times makes me see that you have like, strong, steady waist and firm legs? Like if you sway your hips to move it’s all powerful but not stiff that it’s nice to look at! So…”

… So I lost my voice, like completely losing my voice as my face contracts instant heat rash. I mean—I… think my cheeks feel burning again and they are probably red now. W-why?

“Athletic and fit, nice to look at?” he repeats with that delicious leonine smirk on his face again.

H-hold on. I mean to say AUDACIOUS, dammit!! What the hell was I thinking?!

“Yeah?! What about it? That only raises even more suspicions that you are not human.”

“So?”

This alleged bread loaf drops his chords again. S-such a… _sacrilege_. “So what? Fight me!”

“Fight you?”

“Stop repeating all the things I said!!” huffing, I tilt my head to avert my eyes from his.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, steering his paces back to Maera Hall with me. “And no, I’ll lose.”

“Lose? That’s weird. I don’t even box.”

“Today only makes it even more likely!” he states firmly, but his eyes appear to be… laughing.  

I decide to just let him have this one without contesting even further. Because if he keeps countering me like that, what if I evolve into a lobster?! And probably good that we are just heading to the hall because not only he can prepare his presentation, I can take refuge under the blissful air conditioner because it HAS to be heat wave then, since my face feels burning and red the more I converse with him. Win-win!

Altena _smirks_ like she has never done that in the past fifteen years of her life when she saw Ares returning with me. And her eyes _radiate_ when Ares did ask her for that strategic front-row seat for me! What’s wrong with Jugdral-U and their civitas academia today? If her eyes radiate like that, then… see, global warming is real. Checkmate, climate change deniers, Altena just turned into a hothouse!

Taking out her phone, she speaks briefly. “Leif? Big awesome sister is here with your nerdy friend. No, not our cousin Seliph. Friend. No, not Nanna. Leif? Eating hair again? My hair gel is expensive, dear brother, so stop that. And of course I know Nanna is your girlfriend, duh. Your nerdy friend Ares and his girlfriend are here for the next presentation and mine is after him, so I can’t join you for lunch.”

“Altena.”

She ends the phone call. “There you go. Everything is set,” gesturing to the podium she lightly taps Ares’ shoulder in a friendly manner. “Don’t glare, Ares! Save that for our sparring at the dojo as usual.”

“VERY MUCH ACCEPTED,” Ares huffs.

… Dojo?

“Um, Altena…” I want to say something, but she shakes her head.

“Oh, sorry. Phone,” she quickly takes her phone again like a cowboy slinging a revolver. “Leif?”

“Ares’ girlfriend, you said?! I’m _coming_ , my STRONG-AS-FUCK sister.”

“Leif, we’re on phone. Eat your hair, but don’t _fucking_ shout.”

“Sorry! I’m soooo coming!”

“… Don’t shout it like that, Leif, _goddangit_. You come to see Ares’ girlfriend and not batting an eye knowing I’m enslaving myself here and presenting my project of an earthquake-resistant skyscraper which can be built high up in the mountains? Yeah, whatever though. Hurry!” Altena ends her call again. “Hey, Ares, tried to murder me again with a glare? Won’t work. Get to the podium.”

“Okay,” Ares huffs again. “You make the second person I can’t.”

“Second, huh?” there is a sly grin on her face when she says that, half-dragging Ares to the podium while she rushes to be his computer operator for the session. “Cover the computer for me next, ‘kay?”

“Sure,” Ares simply nods, taking out a laser pointer ouf of his pocket while Altena runs his slides.

I take my seat Ares reserved for me. Not long after people start to crowd the hall, and seats are soon taken while many other students who drop by stand when they do not get a seat. W-wow, the people who sit next to me are straight up professionals in ties and suits! I feel so out of place and stand out at the same time, considering it should be clear that I’m a student and my dress screams summer.

“The Black Knight is presenting?”

“I’m surprised myself. I come here exactly because of that.”

I’m surprised myself. But why did these people make it like they’re visiting the zoo to see a lion in a cage?

“He’s probably going to mess this up.”

“… He sketched that alone? Unbelievable.”

Ugh, I really want to knock these people out! What’s so unbelievable about that, he’s a student too!

Meanwhile Ares relays his presentation. His flat tone and taciturn demeanor practically master the session because people stop talking, seeing him appear unperturbed like that. He talks about improving the Agustrian district, something he feels the need to do because he shares a heritage through his father’s blood who was born there. “It’s time to give back Agustria to the people who have been struggling with their lives there for so long,” he says. Somehow there’s something… regal in the way he conveys his idea like that. “To achieve a greater good we will need a collective effort. I can’t do this on my own. Therefore I invite you to invest your strengths with me. Let’s build a community where people take care of each other, not depending on landlords who eat each other’s flesh while sucking people’s blood dry. For a better future, for a better Agustria. For a friendly environment for our children.”

… It’s like he rallies the masses like a king…

People appear to be stunned when he proceeds to explain his ideas through the slides. Everything feels so well-planned like he’s been carving Agustria in his mind ever since he was born, and that his touch reaches all the corners as his blue print conveys. A man in business attire stands up to clap for him, and like flood rushing to tear a dam, other suit-clad folks follow suit and the students who have been too bewildered finally catch the fever and join the rest of them.

… I clap. I clap as hard as I can, standing on my tip-toes so he sees that I am here. That I sincerely think he has done a great job, and now we’ll need to wait until someone from the Society of Landscape Architects or Whole Building Design to take him in. He smiles faintly after finishing his presentation, setting his mic firmly and thanking Altena while he switches to take her seat at the computer. But before he can, the first businessman who clapped approaches him with a card in his hand.

“Mr. Nordion, if I read your name correctly?”

“You can call me Ares,” he responds, looking rather awkward being approached formally like that.

“Alright. Ares, I’m Innes Frelia of the Valni Tower. Our company engages in maritime industry, but your idea of conserving the environment resonates with my passion since I’ve been doing something similar for the ocean lately. Here is my card if you’d like to hear more. I suck at introduction, anyway.”

“… Thank you—“ he looks so surprised then, “Sir. Same here.”

“My pleasure,” the businessman smiles. “Maybe we’ll make a fine team. I’ll have my assistant reach you.”

He leaves. Altena delivers her presentation, something about improving mountainous living compartments so that they withstand natural disasters. “Livelihoods there are not as easy as they are at the low lands,” she says. “So when a disaster strikes a high-altitude place, things are more expensive to repair and people may find themselves paralyzed for the limitations they already face in the first place.”

She receives warm welcome like he does, and they exchange a bumping fist when she gets off the podium. “Ground-breaking,” Ares nods at her with such respectful tone.

“Likewise, dude,” Altena grins. “Go get your VIP. I’m starving like a wyvern,” she glances at me.

“Leif is fucking smirking at me,” Ares gestures to a seat not too far from where I sit.

“Of course. He’s my brother,” Altena grins again.

“Suffer, Altena,” Ares responds, but his tone is not at all hostile for it almost sounds like a thank you.

“Already did. That model I have under that glass box took away my sleep,” Altena yawns. “Bye, nerd.”

Altena leaves. Leif giddily follows suit, while Nanna smiles so kindly at Ares. “I’m so proud,” she whispers, gently squeezing his arms. “Uncle Eldie will be so delighted when he finds out. Oh, Ares.”

“Shush,” Ares mutters, his hand slinging over her shoulders. “Get some lunch, Nanna. And kill Leif.”

Nanna chuckles. “Have a nice lunch too, you two!” she waves at me before disappearing with Leif.

“Gods. I truly did not know that seat was a VIP one. Everyone around me was clad in suits, looking so sharp and professional like that other mister who seemed to be interested in your project,” I murmur.

“Exactly why it’s refreshing to have something different there,” he replies. “Hungry?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Let’s go get a bite then,” he softly nudges me. “My treat.”

“Y-your treat?”

“I still need to prove my human status to you, don’t I?” he smirks.

“U-ummm. Ares, about that…”

“We can go somewhere else if you don’t feel like eating with Leif and Nanna, rabbit.”

“Nooo. I mean—I mean I GOT YOU FOOD!” I raise my voice, quickly clamming my lips shut after that. “Nooo. N-not going to scream again. Nooope—“

“You got me food?”

“Uh—yeah. It’s just my spaghetti though. I want to thank you for the book,” I hold up my tote bag in front of his face. Nice, coastal defense and seashore-blocking. He shouldn’t see me getting awkward! And WHY am I getting awkward again?! “Coirpre is probably bored by my cooking. I thought he’d be hungry after those rough field sessions…”

“Rough?” he cocks an eyebrow. “What do you mean by rough?”

“Isn’t soccer?” now _I_ am confused! “There was one time when he ate so little like he was so drained.”

“Hmmm. He’s not in the main team, though,” he responds again. “But I’ll check on him.”

“That takes away my concern a little bit,” I sigh. “Maybe he’s just bored. I’ll need to seriously shop then. Summer usually means parties. I’m sure someone out there is willing to hire me.”

“I’m sure he appreciates you even if he doesn’t say it,” Ares pats my shoulder.

“Uh—Ares, ummm. Didn’t know your name is Nordion,” I finally let it out. “Why, I almost think you are related to Lionheart Kitchen and Master Cakes!”

“… Because I am.”

H-huh? “Wait… really?”

“Yeah. Lachesis is my aunt and I deliver my mom’s catering.”

Catering. Just like what Reinhardt said.

“You answer everything so honestly like that?”

“Depends on the interrogator,” he chuckles a little.

“… Alligator?”

“Interrogator, rabbit,” his chuckles turn livelier when I yank his mullet. “Well, considering I’m the one being asked here, it’s up to me whose questions I’ll take and which interrogator I shall satisfy.”

“Don’t say THAT with a straight face!” I huff again.

“I never meant to lie to you. I thought you knew, because people find out about it eventually. Who would have thought Jugdral-U folks are my mother’s customers?” he starts, looking pensive for a moment. “Then I sensed you probably did not know. And I was… rather thankful. About that, and when people do not know.”

“… But why, Ares?” I bite my lips. Have I forced him to share what he did not want in the first place?

“Because I’m still the Black Knight,” he replies firmly. “And I’ll shield my mom at any costs. She’s been worrying a lot about me growing up anyway, it’s my turn taking care of her. I’m too aware that I… intimidate people. So when you followed me back I was genuinely surprised.”

“… You never told me _anblacknight_ was you because you thought—“

“Yeah,” he cuts me in. “Because someone like me shouldn’t be around you to begin with, or so I think. I enjoy your dances. I see you when you struggle and smile on Instagram, so I thought the last thing you need would be people distancing themselves from you for… associating with me.”

“Then you approved.”

“… Yes,” he appears rather sheepishly shy when answering that. “Told you I can never win.”

So Ares is aware anyway. And he is still there, not contesting anything people said about him. Why…

“Very well then, Black Knight,” I take time grinning this time. “If you’d be so kind to deliver this lunchbox for an Ares Hezul Nordion who captivated people at Maera Hall some minutes ago, I’ll be thankful.”

“That truly is… for me?”

“No? How dare you?” I muster an _angry_ look. “Because this is for Ares!”

“… Ah, Miss Bragi.”

“See, there’s only an Ares here, it seems,” chuckling, I put the lunchbox in his hands. “And I hope he likes my food enough because his mother is a chef! Wew, gods, I won’t _dare_.”

“… Yet here you are.”

“Yeah. Audacious enough trying to make you eat my food considering your mom is a chef,” I grin again.

“What I mean is that I won’t let this slide, Lene,” he smirks, taking my lunchbox. “Thank you. I will think of something to repay this back. Thank you for attending the presentation for me as well. Thank you for clapping so enthusiastically and even _jumped_ doing that.”

“… You made me sound like I’m doing you a great favor,” I whisper. “Or you just want to call me short?”

“No, and yes.”

“Please speak in Human. I’m not fluent in Lion yet.”

“For your questions.”

“Questions?”

“That one just now and the other one from last night.”

“… Last night?!”

“Yeah? I haven’t answered, have I?” he laughs this time.

“Which one? I asked you many!! Cheater. Cheater, cheater, cheater!”

“The one I haven’t answered?” he only laughs even more merrily although I lightly punched his nose? “… And nice flowers there,” he gestures to my dress.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” I made a quick decision. He will follow, like it or not!

“In a hurry?”

“No. You said nice flowers. It must be the heat. Let’s cool down somewhere and eat!” I huff. “Are you really alright? Would you bow your head a bit… DO NOT SMIRK, I need your forehead! Yes, why, I thought you caught heat wave! Stop smirking or I _castrate_ you, dammit.”

“So I know pink, don’t I?”

“Y-you…”

“And yes. That’s what I’m thinking. And that’s what I thought last night too.”

“What do you mean?! Aaah, Ares!! For the love of anything _humane,_ please speak in Human.”

“I meant what I said,” he chuckles again. “… This spaghetti is warm.”

"I assure you, I did not sit on it!" 

Good, just good. Truly is the best comeback of the season. I’ll make a great orator, I’m sure of it! And of course I’ll willingly assassinate myself right away because… why did I say that?! I huff again, this time begrudgingly at Ares who only laughs even more after hearing my glorious (not) response. This is so weird. Perhaps he is indeed a demon and no longer an alleged demon because it’s like my own brain is betraying me when he’s nearby, being all endearingly gentle like that.

Or maybe because…

H-haha, it can’t be, right? Not like that. Nooot like that. “Not like that.”

“What is?”

“Unbutton your shirt. I need to see if you sparkle under the sun. It must be it, right? Must be why you wear black all the time. You are pale and blond. You ride an antique bike and your hair is a fashion trend fossil of the old age. And you sat through Twilight unperturbed. I know it. I know who you are.”

“How am I alive if I am what you think I am, Lene, considering my mom cooks for a living?” he responds. “My mom said the first lie a recipe tells you is one clove of garlic.” That face! That smile! That blondicity! The audacity of those _tenderly_ laughing eyes!!

“Oh, so you want to debate me! You think you are so clever, don't you? Then you must be wearing a black sash each time you have those lightweight _white_ cotton pants because those pants seal your powers!”

“I can't take it off. Tradition.”

“Of course! I know it, you’re only alleged human…”

"... What do you mean 'of course', do you want me to take it off?"

“NOT LIKE THAT!! HOOOMYGOD.”

“Not like that?”

“N-no. G-gods, t-that was. Bad. Really, because you are this quirky nerd but at the same time you are also endearing in a way that is specifically  so-you, and I just want to make sure you are not going to make me a host of some demonic entity or some shit, you know, because I've never met someone like you before, let alone someone who speaks Lion? I can imagine Julius speaks Parseltongue for being a lizard, b-but you are a completely different case! G-gods, what am I thinking again. I should probably stop watching horror movies. Aaaah, you must think I’m fucking stupid!”

He chuckles. “I assure you, not like that.”

“Not like that?”

“Not like that,” he nods. “With trademark emoji. Have I succeeded speaking in Rabbit, now?”

Goshdangit, he smiles again. Then he must be Lucifer, right? Pale, tall, blond, and strong. With alluring presence, captivating eyes, and beautiful vocal chords. And his demonic power to basically ruin my capability to think because my vocabulary seems to betray me easily each time he speaks in a gallant manner like that. And of course, his own tendency to say the darndest shit with a straight face! That can mean he's only alleged human! Right? Hmmm, I guess that explains everything then. Must be why he kept signalling Not-Like-That each time I tried to dig further whether he is a lion demon or not!

It's not like I'm paying attention into his eyes, though. Or admiring the way he carries himself. Or liking how his voice sounds when he speaks softly. Not like that. 

... Not like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have allusions pertaining the game >:) and yeah, that 777 thing for the landscape architecture department on Ares' project refers to the Grannvalian calendar by the time Seliph's story starts. 
> 
> Made Altena as Ares' classmate because I like the idea of Altena interacting with Ares! In a way I feel like they can actually relate to each other, from the melancholic tendencies to being raised by different people. Ares and Altena are pretty close as far as their ages are concerned, so I think they'll make a fine team (I also saw an AlteRes fanart on Pixiv sometime ago lol).
> 
> And sorry not sorry about Reinhardt. His quotes in FE Heroes gave me ideas lol.


	7. The Fault in Our Phones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the flash updates, I want to empty my drafts u_u

**_dancedancerebellion @anblacknight_ ** _made a GREAT presentation at the_ _#MaeraHall. Are you someone with a passion to improve other people’s lives? Perhaps the future Agustria is waiting ^^ #JugdralU_

I look at the post I just made—it was a photoset consisting three pictures of the previous exhibition at the Maera Hall; first being a glimpse of Ares’ blueprint, another is of him on the podium, and the last one when that dandy businessman from Valni approached him to have a handshake.  Of course I made sure my shot of the blueprint capture his name as well. It’s only fair, and people need to know that he made it.

I yawn. And quickly stop when Saias Velthomer enters the class with a smile. Damn, he is never late.

 **_anblacknight_ ** _… You took a photo me **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Yes! ^^ I have Saias now though sorry for the stalling reply **@anblacknight**_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _Saias is in your class? **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Yeah -_-;; kinesiology is interesting but the technicalities bore me out lololol Saias has no IG I hope? :P **@thunderingwithpride**_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _Worry not, for he does not! He is an old-fashioned man **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _OH OLD-FASHIONED HUH I SEE NOW >:) **@thunderingwithpride**_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _And a magnificent one too! **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I KNOW, REINREIN, I KNOW **@thunderingwithpride**_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _He’s also doing a graduate research. Trying to find the link between nutrition intake and biomechanics. I see why he is there **@dancedancerebellion.** Such a NOBLE cause! Is there a chance for you to take his picture too since you did **@anblacknight**_

 **_dancedancerebellion @thunderingwithpride_ ** _I DID NOT DO ARES!  Also why do you need Saias’ face?!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _She did **@thunderingwithpride @dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Shut up Ares :))) I have the glittery pen with me **@anblacknight** _

**_anblacknight_ ** _… Noted **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _For the noble cause of science, of course! He studies people and substances all the time, will be fair if someone takes turn to study his biomechanics. **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_righteously_ ** _Brother **@thunderingwithpride**_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _That is right, Dear Olwen! I, an electrical engineering major, shall embark on this quest of a brotherly noble cause! There has to be something because when he moves I jolt **@righteously**_

 **_heyimnotaplant_ ** _Oh, Harold **@thunderingwithpride**_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _Why hello, Leif! You must have mentioned me by mistake! **@heyimnotaplant**_

 ** _friegish_ ** _… Reinhardt, are you going to email me the transistor test result or not? **@thunderingwithpride**_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _Faster than lightning, Exalted Group Leader! **@friegish**_

Bless Saias for not having Instagram and being unaware having made into a Miss Universe finalist on a bikini section, perhaps. And he is so unassuming and kind, perhaps the real fallen angel here is Saias instead of Ares. See, too kind that half of the class are either secretly eating potato chips under the desk or covering their face with a laptop to sleep.

“I’ll need you to data-mine,” Saias says, distributing survey papers to the entire class.

“Cryptocurrency damages environment,” someone shouts, earning giggles and chuckles from the others.

But Saias keeps his serene smile as always. “You can fill these quizzes to help with your reports. Scope of topics, up to you. These are just rough guidelines. So, basically you can sample kids, the elderly, whomever you want and see if sedentary behaviors influence their health. There is this interesting research which aimed to find out the ideal neighborhood walkability from a transportation center for kids around age ten to thirteen. This way we can help people getting healthier.”

Saias’ graceful bearing has never failed to control situation!

“I’m in medical science. And honestly, both me and the medical doctors I’ve worked with agree about one thing,” he starts again after everyone gets their sheets. “That it is actually much worthwhile to prevent than fix. Like that research I quoted—that way you help people getting healthier even before they are sick. A sustainable community, including how we plan our buildings, what we feed our children—now you see how broad kinesiology can be?”

When Saias puts the questionnaire form on my table, I send a quick snap to Ares as Saias turns his back to move to the other tables. Of course, with his explanation of the sheet too which I took notes on prior.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Heheee sounds like it’s good for urban planners too, dontcha think, Ares~_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Interesting. Sounds like I’ve got a smart partner to rebuild Agustria._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hahaha, you’re a tease._

Yeah, right? I may excel in all the artsy parts of my courses, but kinesiology is actually really scientific and technical. I do like it as a concept, after art starts from what’s inside the mind. For it to manifest in a concrete manner, it’s only expected to theorize then create something to fulfill the images you construct.

But that aside, why would Ares dub me as his partner? There has to be a better candidate for that. Even if he is a loner, it’s not like I magically woke up one day to understand urban planning! And all I did was merely sharing a glimpse of the questionnaire Saias distributed for us. And if anything, it was Saias’ explanation and that thing about that research he called interesting!

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I don’t do striptease_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Sorry, distracted. My group has been on urban sprawl debate for 15 mins._

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Urban_ _brawl?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Great idea._

He linked me to his own update.

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Focus group._

 **_ladyinpink_ ** _I say this again, “urban sprawl” is a pejorative term **@anblacknight @gaebolg** _ **_@hammerme_ **

**_anblacknight @ladyinpink @gaebolg @hammerme_ ** _Aesthetics means jackshit. People need sustainable resources and a strong community. It may be, Linoan, but we need a deeper take than arguing semantics._

 **_gaebolg @anblacknight @hammerme @ladyinpink_ ** _Urbanization! Nobody wanna live in goddamn higher lands or smth similar. Just look at the area near Thracia Academy, what’s the solution?!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Reducing slums and barring rich asshats to gentrify **@gaebolg @hammerme @ladyinpink**_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _But how, smartass **@anblacknight** cc **@ladyinpink @hammerme**_

 ** _anblacknight_** _Urban brawl courtesy of **@dancedancerebellion** , build shit, get hit_ **_@gaebolg_**

 **_hammerme @anblacknight @ladyinpink @gaebolg_ ** _But investments. PLEASE FOCUS I swear to God_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Fuck, I forgot that Safy **@hammerme**. Ok, tonight we oppress business majors._

 **_heyimnotaplant_ ** _HEYYYY **@anblacknight**_

He mentioned me so casually?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Omg Aresss hahaha I require no credit tho!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
And you took my picture because?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Because greatness deserves recognition :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Agreed. So what is this conversation for, rabbit?_

“Of course what I just told you is one among many kinesiology researches which successfully improved our lives. You are more than welcome to get creative with the questionnaire I crafted,” I startle when Saias is back to the frontline… ahem, lecturer’s desk. Holding my phone under my desk, my knees bump against the desk. S-so much for texting Ares…

… Exchanging messages on Instagram, I mean!!

 **_ladyinpink_ ** _Who is **@dancedancerebellion @anblacknight**?_

 **_anblacknight @ladyinpink_ ** _A very smart dancer **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_ladyinpink_ ** _… Dancer? **@anblacknight**_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _The girl **@anblacknight** brought to the presentation **@ladyinpink**_

 **_ladyinpink_ ** _Ooooh? **@gaebolg @anblacknight** Ah sorry I thought we missed one extra person._

 **_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _You had a kidnapped audience??_

H-haha, now that Diarmuid is in the conversation…

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Ares, I swear to God_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Hmmm?_

You brazen bread loaf—n-now this is embarrassing. On the other hand, does that mean his friends want to… get to know me? H-haha, can’t be. He probably hardly even thought of anything when he casually mentioned me like that.

 **_larceihehey_ ** _**@dancedancerebellion** You were with **@anblacknight** at Maera Hall? :O_

 ** _nunsfighttoo_** _Nanna said so!_ **_@dancedancerebellion @larceiheyhey_** _cc **@lightprincess**_

 ** _pheeew_** _Oh so that’s how it goes **@dancedancerebellion @larceiheyhey @nunsfighttoo**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _It’s not odd Lana **@anblacknight** scored well yesterday ^^; **@nunsfighttoo**_

 ** _pheeew_** _> SCORED WELL PFFFT_ **_@dancedancerebellion_**

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** **_@schalphy_** _how many years can I get for committing three first-degree murders?_

“Well, if you can submit the ideas to me in the next three days, I’ll help you with the paper,” Saias continues, this time turning the laptop on to begin the class. “I figured if you already got guidelines then your start probably wouldn’t be as rough compared to starting from zero. You already took research methods classes, I presume?”

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_AREEEESSSSSS_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Screaming through Instagram?_

 **_dancedancerebellion @schalphy_ ** _If I try to castrate a man is it an assault or an attempted murder?_

Some people mumble a yes, and Saias smiles again. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem. Yes, in three days please submit to me one page regarding your take on the questionnaire I just gave out. No, we are not doing some in-depth research yet. What I actually want to know is what you get from fulfilling the questionnaire I gave you, and if you are interested to do a thesis with this one, you can continue.”

“Can you tell us how to sample?” someone asks from the back seat.

“This is a small questionnaire. Try at least twenty people if you can. Twenty athletes near you, or even twenty senior citizens doing yoga every morning. Anything. And see if their activity corresponds with other factors listed in the questionnaire. On a minor level, comparison may work too. For example, get someone who has been doing karate for eight years to run a two-hundred meter sprint. Compare that to an actual runner. See if the karate person has similar eating and sleeping habits, all those things.”

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Ares, I want your kids_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _*FOR THIS CLASS_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _…_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _SAIAS LOOKED THIS WAY IT GOT SENT PREMATURELY_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I see. I thought you had a secret cult. I’m relieved._

… He truly is not human. The positive side though—I’m so glad he is not.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Well if I took Saias’ idea to compare a karate person to a runner I might have asked you instead of the kids ;P Do you do karate for eight years?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _No._

 ** _dancedancerebellion_  
** _The good side is I get to DEFEAT you! I do running to improve stamina though ^^_

Hahaha, why do I even bother? Is it even a big deal at all if I run or not?

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_Running is tedious. You are awesome._

Awe… some?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Oh, you praised me now, huh._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
You said I would need to brush up my fluency in Human?_

That only ensures me that he is only alleged human.

Finally Saias’ boring class ends! I can’t wait to copy the questionnaire and then dump everything on Ares in case he’s meeting the soccer kids today. Copier, copier… so, library? Or perhaps that little stationery shop near the simple bakery Lana usually drops by every morning.

Oh, I need to queue the copier! So I guess more time to play with the phone?

 **_dancedancerebellion @etluxintenebrislucet_ ** _Help a sister out! >:3 I’ll bring this home so your team mates can fill them in later! I want to do this to my girls but I’ll be lacking samples XOXO_

 **_etluxintenebrislucet_ ** _Uhhh I don’t know if I can do that Sis **@dancedancerebellion** I’m so sorry!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Oh but why? :O **@etluxintenebrislucet** this isn’t even a survey to sell you vitamins, on the contrary the ultimate goal is learning our movements and habits to be better ^^_

 ** _etluxintenebrislucet_** _Ummm I’m not sure if I could do that Sis **@dancedancerebellion** perhaps if Coach N is the one to hand them, my group mates will just obey than asking me questions._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Why, I’d explain it quick to you of course! :O **@etluxintenebrislucet** Actually it’s good if they ask questions!~ Because even the sports industry conveniently cast kinesiology aside, yknow?_

 **_etluxintenebrislucet_ ** _I’m the new kid… they’d want some authority… to heed… **@dancedancerebellion**_

… Authority, Coirpre said. Authority to heed. Alright, Ares probably wins this one because… I won’t doubt he’s respected and probably even feared because it’s Ares. The Ares with a powerful bearing who masters a room he is in. The Ares who fights, and probably does active sports too that they easily trust him to coach the boys soccer. Someone people can rely on to somehow.

For some reason I feel… sad? It’s like my own little brother is fleeting away from me and there is nothing I can do to prevent that from happening. Is that just because Ares is a man, and Coirpre needs an older brother he can bond with? Admittedly, Ares is so kind. Not many people talked to Coirpre the way he did, and I don’t think he did that just to impress me. He’s been coaching Coirpre for some time until he met us at the grocery store—accidentally, mind you, and if what he displayed was not what he truly is, I doubt that mask will last so long because… as much as Ares seems to be aloof, his tendency to be curt seems to stem in “I don’t bother you so don’t bother me” rather than him despising people or wanting to play a mysterious secret agent itself.

But still, Coirpre is my brother, and not Ares’.

Am I jealous, or…

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _Queuing the copier~ I feel so bummed suddenly… ;_;_

 **_queenbee_ ** _Yeah sorry Princess the photocopy machine doesn’t serve you only **@dancedancerebellion**_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _It’s just a copier_ **_@queenbee_** _the world already serves you and your money!_

… Sigh. Officially bad mood it is then. Authority, Coirpre said. What’s wrong with love? And I always make sure I don’t prevent him from doing things he likes. He suddenly told me he wanted to do soccer, alright—do soccer. Even knowing he’s a scrawny kid whose brain will always be bigger than his muscles ever be.

And sure he can do everything he wants while minding himself a little bit more, right?

… Maybe I’m cranky? Maybe I’m just in a bad mood because suddenly my Coirpre wakes up to be a big kid who starts to do… big kid things. Like suddenly he does not need me, and gets embarrassed when I ask for a simple favor.

… What if he does not want me anymore?

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _Heyyy there lovelies~! Can you recommend me easy dinner menus? Preferably cheap too of course haha! Imagine something to fill you in and warm your heart after a hard work! >.<_  

 ** _larceiheyhey_** _Standard answer, but… chicken soup!_ **_@dancedancerebellion_**

 **_nunsfighttoo @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Spinach burek ^^ vegetables can taste amazing too!_

 **_pheeew_ ** _Slow-cooker something or something-pot! You can heat the leftover! **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_friegish_ ** _Beef wellington? **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Ishtar, that dish is not… ^^; never mind, thank you regardless! **@friegish**_

 **_dancedancerebellion @pheeew_ ** _Something kids would love! What does Ced like?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _Oooh, good question!! Crunchy, crispy katsu or curry rice perhaps? And you can use chicken **@dancedancerebellion** if beef is too expensive! If the curry blocks are out of your budget… roux?_

 **_dancedancerebellion @pheeew_ ** _Wonderful! Thank yoooouuu~!_

Right, people say the best moments start from a hearty, warm meal. So perhaps this way I can get my Coirpre back! Okay, maybe the leftover spaghetti was too cold for him. I mean… I kept it in the fridge. Perhaps he was expecting something… more? He is a child. I should make room for him—in everything, including the food. I can’t ask him to tighten his belt too and suffer like me…

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Uhhh Ares I have a question_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Say it._

He replied so fast. Perhaps he’s done with the focus group?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Ah, the focus group session has ended? ^^_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Yes, I’m back to the drawing room._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Alone? :O_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _…_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Why, rabbit? :)_

W-what’s with that smiley…

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_WHO TOLD YOU TO SMILEEEE_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Because something probably concerned you since you asked._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hahahaaaa what do you know~ I heard that room is haunted~ have fun, Ares~~~_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
There, the proof._

… I hate him when he does that! I hate that he is usually right! AAAA—

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
The spaghetti that day…_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I do remember._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Was it… good? :O I mean… I stored it in the fridge to save, so…_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Why again, rabbit?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ummm. It’s just, eh, I made plenty, and with the fridge, I’d hate feeding you bad food ^^;;;_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
That was homemade?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Yes!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Ah…_

Again, another ‘Ah’?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Omg I’m scared u_u what if it was bad?? Just be honest with me if it was!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Ah, don’t be. There is nothing to be afraid of._

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_ARESSSS_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes? :)_

… Why is he smiling again…

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Perhaps you are a masochist X__X_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Haha._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
SUSPICIOUSSSS_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Am I?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Maybe you are, who knows! =_=;_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Hmmm?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
What if you like the tingling sensation of bad spaghetti in your mouth because you’re not human._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
And a lady back then said I say the darndest things with a straight face._

Y-you, errrgh—what… do I need to defeat you? Oh, right. I’ll show you!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
WRONG. You’re soooo wrong!! I didn’t say that with a straight face, mind you!_

I sent him a selfie of me sticking my tongue out in a mocking way. Of course it does feel childish. Of course someone like Ares probably won’t yield just with one tongue gesture ….

… I mean!! Ahhh dear gods, t-that sounds—

Ahem. I mean, I don’t doubt he’ll probably just ignore it the way he never liked my selfies so far. Oh, right, there sure was one time when he said he would “accept this gift of a face”, but then again WHO says that? Okay, _he_ did. But it’s Ares. And he’s only alleged human. So he can’t be allegedly accepting my face—photo! He probably merely allegedly tolerated me. He can’t possibly like my face, even if he allegedly behaved otherwise.

Hmmm, maybe Ares is just not interested…

… Uhhh. In exchanging selfies, I mean!!

Wait, why would he be interested to exchange selfies?! If I want his face on my phone nearly all the time I should just go to his profile and mine his selfies there. After all I stopped snooping—checking!—when I entangled myself to update and respond my own posts on my Instagram, and texted… no, exchanged direct messages, goshdangit, with the man himself.

It’s not like I want his photo on my phone or anything. Why would I want one anyway? To sell? He’s not some idol or some sort. Perhaps I can’t even put it on a black market because people already feel his vibe beaming from the photo that they are scared shitless. Tough luck. See, I can’t be a creep even if I wanted to! Why can’t I be a creep?! Why, the gods are so unfair!!

… I… think I lamented in the wrong way?

But that takes us back to the first notion—why would I want his face on my phone anyway. Alright, he probably has a pleasant face majestic enough to look at. Like the way his hair shines under the sun, or the way the corner of his lips twitches each time he smiles tenderly like that. Or those deep chords making a pleasant voice when he chuckles. I don’t care. Like, I won’t even care how nice he actually looks in those training pants and sleeveless body-hugging shirts he typically wears when he trains! Why would I care?! It’s an alleged lion demon. Even if I’m the last female human on earth, I’m not desperate!

So, because I don’t care about him at all, it shouldn’t bother me that much that I might have been a bit childish by giving him the tongue-sticking pose. It’s not like he cares anyway! And why would I care whether he cares or not? He’s here for the dances. And probably to secretly laugh at me because… what, I talk like a rabbit? Haha, sorry then, Ares, rabbits don’t study kinesiology!

… Alright, sobs, that was probably pretty childish.

But I can’t help it! Why can’t I help myself anytime this brazenly nice asshole is involved?! There has to be a logical explanation behind this, right? Oh, right. Must be because I’m dead bored waiting for the photocopy stand to finish with the others so they can copy my questionnaire sheet! Maybe because I’m a bit nervous to submit my rough draft of that classical landscape painting assignment from Professor Forseti, which I completed with the help of Ares’ book. And perhaps I’m just dead, dead bored waiting because usually Larcei and I will take our typical seats, which we usually secure in the early minutes before other Forseti attendees—ahem, it’s not that I want to make it like Professor Forseti has… what, _handmaiden,_ mind you—I mean people who also take his art history class with me and Larcei!

Right, must be it!

And Ares’ unmatched affinity with my face must be the reason why there are some beautiful idle minutes that he has not replied yet. Maybe he will never. Oh gods, what if he dies after seeing my photo?! Because my pose is not at all cute, so I won’t be surprised if the image is cursed!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Seliph!! Omg Seliph! If someone dies after seeing my face can I be convicted of a murder???_

 **_schalphy  
_ ** _I’m—sorry… pardon, come again?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
What if I accidentally killed Ares with my face??? Omg TToTT I want him alive and well!_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
… Excuse me? O_o_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Please represent me versus Ares in a Bragi v Nordion case omg_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
He doesn’t seem to like me that much._

… Oh, right. I hope one day I can… I don’t know, hopefully, help. Because Seliph is a nice person, and on top of that he is also kind that I’m sure, if Ares gets to know him, then he too, will…

What a shame. Ares is really kind too, what happened between him and Seliph?

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Uhhh. So you and Ares are like… enemies?_

 ** _schalphy_**  
_Enemy… I won’t even say that. Not even an ounce of my mitochondria hates our Ares :’)_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Seliph, I… I’m lost._

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Ah, don’t worry about me! Anyway, if Ares hypothetically dies after seeing your picture, does not that indicate he has been deliberately taking time to look at your face multiple times? :D_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
ET TU SELLY_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Oh, we are now having a mock court session! Bye, Lene, please take care of Ares for me too, okay? :))_

W-what does that… even mean? Alright, which lawyer I can contact to represent me, pro-bono, in case Ares wants to drag me to the court because my face causes him to sprawl on the bed like a tired lion? And for supposed enemy, Seliph is still kind like that.

… R-ridiculous. Why would he be in his bed gazing at my face. Hahaha, I must be hungry. Never in my life I would sooo hope that Forseti’s class starts earlier than it typically is, or for the professor himself to arrive on time! And for Larcei to be with me! Sobs, Larcei, where art thou?! And Professor Forseti does have a knack of… not arriving in time. Of course he arrives within the tolerable late-range, but he’s so dead busy with tons of businesses to attend to, so even if he robs Aladdin to take away his magic carpet, I assure, you, he will be at least three minutes late to come to the class to teach.

Ah, thank the gods it won’t be long until my turn to use the photocopy machine! Huh, my phone flashes!

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_This is exactly why. Hrrrhhh._

He replied! And hold on—was that a… growl?!

 **_aancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… You’re angry?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _What? Not at all._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Then why did you sound like a broken toaster?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I told you me and pretty things aren’t a match._

Huh?

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
But it was only my selfie, not the French language!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Such a rabbit._

Oh, that again. Great that I have time to spare. Perhaps I should hunt him down to the drawing room! Yeah, let’s just do that! And considering he’s alone in that haunted room, perhaps it will give me a good chance to make him admit defeat before we get to start hearing weird noises. And I reeeaally don’t want to be trapped in one of those situations where I get to pull in closer to him because of some insolent poltergeist. Ridiculous, slamming my own body against his like that—especially if those wide shoulders are around me as his chest shields me. Haha, what a joke. And I _know_ that’s not what he needs either, because… why would a lion demon fear another demon?

… Huh, my phone flashes yet another notification light?

That alleged broken toaster sent back a… selfie! In there he’s holding a Rotring pen with two different types of rulers scattering around, but his face is tilted at the side, rather hidden by the hand holding the pen. Did he just want to be fair by sending back a selfie but not being a fan of camera, or… laughing?

But WHY was he laughing?!

“Next?”

“… Oh! I was distracted…” I walk up to the machine and begin to photocopy my questionnaire sheets.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Thank yooouuuu for mocking me, thank you, Ares!! -_-“_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I am not._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Suuure you are not. Not! X_X_

I sent back a selfie. Oh, so we are now at selfie contest? I took a TON! And if it was not for the sun, I would not even think he had a face. He took more photos of his bike than his own face!

This time the selfie I sent him is of me… errr, pouting. I’m a big girl, I swear…

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I truly am not. I shall prove myself to you._

Who writes like that in this age and date… oh, right, anything that is supposed to be does not apply to Ares. After all, AGAIN, he is only alleged human!

Oh, wow he sent another selfie. He is… smiling? Like truly smiling. With the same gentle eyes like he has done… over and over again. The first one is suspicious, but this one is good-looking.

I mean. Exactly _why_ it only makes everything more suspicious!!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Got a translucent, transparent friend? ;P Similar species like yours? ^^_

Eat your phone, Ares!

I sent him back a selfie. This time I _am_ smiling, so contended that I _could_ make him stop smirking like a mischievous lion and instead smiling at me. Haaa! You shall know I’m not the one to make an enemy!

He has not replied even until I got all my copied questionnaires! Feh, coooward!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ares you’re a coward coward coward btw there is a cow in coward though. So… you’re a cow demon? :O_

I glance at my watch. Now is the perfect time to rush to art history class and mark my typical seat I usually pair myself with Larcei!

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I do not retreat, Lene. I take hits._

He sent me another selfie. This time it is a sheet he is working on, but I can see a long out-of-place thick line crossing over a beautifully symmetric prism on the sheet. It’s like when you are working on something and then you knock out everything around you because… how did his pen miss like that?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Oh gosh, how? :O Hey ghost, you are an asshole for disturbing Ares. You’re already dead, so act like it!!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
What a benevolent warrior._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Because it’s your hard work ^^ translucent ass or not, that asshole ghost deserves a suplex~_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I will just redraw that prism. It’s only a gazebo this time, should be alright._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
But really though, how did you miss like that? It’s almost like your pen is a sword striking through._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Admittedly, I got distracted._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Distracted? Oooh, that ghost flirted with you?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
No, rabbit. The view I had just now was beautiful. Thank you._

What a dork. What did he thank me for?

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Why, Ares, do they teach poetry in architecture classes~? But now I’m so suspicious. HEY! You’re still Ares, not some insolent transparent ass-bandit, aren’t you?! What beautiful view Ares that room looks like a hospital ward because the walls are white and the windows are hardly even open! Ooomigod Ares what if the ghost is taking you to its world?! … Or are you happy because it means a homecoming for you? :P_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I’m pretty comfortable with the world I am currently in :)_

Wow, another smiley emoji. How dare. Sigh. I probably should truly brush my skill in Lion…

After making the secret commitment to be fluent in Lion, I decide to just drag my feet to the next class, which is art history with Professor Forseti. At least chit-chatting Ares stalls me a bit, so it shouldn’t take much time until the professor arrives! … Ah, look at those breads…

“… Hey, you.”

“Yes?” I turn around. Why did this person call me from a dark corridor like a shady weed dealer?

… I regret it at an instant. The moment I replied, that corridor-lurker and alleged weed dealer snatches me, taking my arm in his grip. And yes— _his_ grip. When he lingers closer to me, I quickly make up the shadow before me, and immediately recognize him as the same person from the warehouse who was close to fight Ares. And now he is here. He casually drags me away from the little short pavement walk which should take me back to the main building where art majors have most of our classes.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!” I try to yank my arm off his grasp, but to no avail. He’s one of those student athletes, that one, I get it. But I don’t want to bow down to anyone. Never! I keep thrashing, my phone is in my other hand with the direct message screen is still open because my last use of Instagram was chatting with Ares.

Speaking of Ares…

… Will I be able to type a coherent message to him? But at the same time, he is peacefully drawing, studying… probably manifesting some creativity and big ideas on a paper. I don’t know if he can get to work so peacefully like that—well, providing that he does like the drawing room as much!—but…

“I’m not doing anything! I just want to talk,” the jock glares at me, immediately releasing me then.

“Oh, right. By dragging me like some savage you are. And making me face you here, away from the crowd,” I glare back. You think you can glare at me?! Not even a lion demon’s death stare can stop me, and he is no Ares. “I have Forseti next. Make it quick, or I call for help.”

He scratches his head. “Listen,” he finally takes a few steps back, “I’m just doing you a favor here.”

“I don’t understand,” I fold my arms, quietly moving my phone to my dominant hand in case I need to slam his face with it. Where are my wedges when I need them?! “About what? I don’t even know you!”

“The Black Knight.”

“You mean Ares?”

He snickers. “Okay, whatever. Back then he said you’ve got a name.”

“Of course I do. Just like he does,” I linger to the side casually, acting like it’s just a gesture to convey my annoyance while in reality I’m shifting to get to his blind side so I can run when the moment is there.

“You really have no idea who he is, don’t you?” the jock sneers, in a manner as if he just smelled something so foul and he tried not to vomit on the floor.

“What do you mean?” now I am curious. I have no idea who he is? But I know him, more or less—he _told_ me! He is a landscape architecture senior, and probably likes active activities a little bit too much. And he rides an antique big bike he brought back to life himself. And yes, yes, the issue is solved—he is a Nordion, from the same family who runs Lionheart Kitchen and Master Cakes. All these deliveries are not guns or dead bodies—it’s his mother’s catering and casseroles! And then he said his zodiac was Aries. So, what do I even miss?!

“See,” the jock points at me. “Clueless. Totally clueless. You know what, I change my mind. At first I thought you’re just dumb, but you seem to be in the dark. I pity you, babe.”

“Do _not_ call me that,” I hiss.

“Why, only he can?” the jock smiles wryly.

“I’m not even dating him, but that is irrelevant,” I challenge that smile with my sharp, disapproval look. I really want to get away from him, but at the same time I’m curious to hear more. What is it about Ares I am supposed to know, and not knowing, and apparently making me a pitiful damsel?

“That guy is a beast,” the jock smirks now, like he has said something so earth-shaking. Yeah, he is. I mean, considering the circumstance I met him, considering he did jab another guy’s solar plexus with his foot without even batting an eye? Considering I often meet him while we are at the sports hall, with me practicing my own choreography and him practically doing strength training here and there?

“I know he is strong,” I respond, not sure what to make of that remark. Yeah, he probably is if that is how you define a strong guy. Should I say ‘Wow!’ or something? He is. But that one is a gentle beast.

“No, darling,” the jock cackles now, like he truly pities my naivety or something. “What I’m saying is that he is a beast. Why do you think nobody hardly bothered with him so far? That nobody—not even those with sport clubs here—cares enough to approach him? That one is a monster. I bet you have no idea that he got disciplined and grounded for being involved in a fight, don’t you?”

“Seeing you and that other creep you called team member, I don’t see any difference,” I huff. “Oh, wait. He kicked that guy for being a creep. That guy challenged him because he is a creep.”

“Whatever you say, dancer. He was disqualified, period. And then the committee found out he engaged in street fights often. Where do you think he got that reputation from? His black belt? Meh!”

Ares has a… black belt? Like, truly, truly that kind of martial arts rank belt?

“Maybe because he dresses in black most of the time.”

“Are you playing dumb or are you shielding him?”

“Likewise. Are you just envious of him, or trying to slander him?”

“Gods. You are beyond saving. If that’s what your choice is, well, fuck me I guess! Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the jock hisses as he proceeds to leave. “Presentation? Such crap. That one does not belong in the academia. Neither does he in a professional setting—or any regulated ring under the nobleness of sportsmanship, that is! That one is a disgrace to Jugdral-U.”

“That one this, Black Knight that, I told you, his name is Ares! Ares, I told you—so call him that, say Ares, damn it!” Why… did I shout? But I did. Oh, I did. I did not even realize my voice only got louder and louder or that I ended everything with a cuss. What is this again, Ares being a disgrace to Jugdral-U? Okay, Altena mentioned a sparring. This jock captain brought up the matter of ring too back then. My friends said he was this scaaary Black Knight who got into fights often and kept winning them.

… Have I been… so stubborn that I did not heed them? Am I overlooking these because he’s among the rare population of male persons I know to have treated me… respectfully?

But exactly. I don’t recall the last time a guy was being mindful and attentive of my little brother—my Coirpre, the timid Coirpre with a resolve—that he earned Coirpre’s respect. I don’t recall the last time some man was mindful about me that he never made any startling, suspicious moves to unnerve me.

… If this one is such a disgrace, would he even craft that daring project? He could have settled on something safer, and then polished up his presentation without being frank about doing the poor justice. He probably wouldn’t need to bother venturing the library to find that book for me. He read what I wrote, he checked on my literature review and he welcomed the ideas my classes gave me without making disrespectful or degrading comments about me.

… Which beast is it again? What if a knight in shining armor does exist, his armor actually is… black?

I don’t feel like Googling Ares just like that. I—for some reason, I just can’t. I…

With thoughts clouding my head, I quickly take my way out before that jock can say anything. Art history now. Art history. Just forget whatever he said then.

… But Seliph…

Gosh, I almost forget him. Seliph is too nice to trash Ares, of course, and he probably truly holds no grudge. But he did not seem to deny that the relation between them is not amiable. But why do people keep coming to tell me to stay away from Ares? To tell me how bad he is as a person and even worse as an influence? It’s not like they care about me at all before this—or about him too, in the matter!!

… Ah, great, our typical seats are not taken! Hnnn! I can gloriously dump my bag and this bunch of questionnaire sheets then. My mind races. Who actually is Ares, and what happened back then?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Uhhh did you ever hear of any other rumors about… Ares?_

I really don’t know how to start this conversation. For some reason, I know I’m not… ready if my own friends pull an _I told you so_ on me _._ At the same time I wish that wasn’t the case, because I want truth!

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Yeah hahaha arch dept seniors seem to think you’re his girl now? Craaazy._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Nooo asdf it must be because of Altena lolmaooo. I mean like… was he in a sports team or something?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who likes to be in a team. WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN YOU & ARES THO?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Doing and liking is different tho. AND UH, I TREAT HIM LIKE A PERSON??_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Wise words. If you know what I mean >:) REALLY? THEN WHAT’S THIS DOING-LIKING DISCOURSE??_

Sigh, I only exposed myself even more to Fee’s teasing. But does that mean she did not smell anything suspicious about Ares so far? Or is it because he’s the Black Knight so others are hardly surprised anymore each time he gets into trouble? But… was _he_ the one starting it?

Gods, maybe Larcei knows something. Hurry up and claim your seat, Larcei!

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _I’m gonna be late for Forseti! Overslept! Gods I’m fucking tired I’ve been designing a poster lately._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Okay. Secured the seat next to mine C: whoever sits there gonna get castrated._

She is going to be late. I can’t gossip about Ares with her then. Or I can… with the person himself!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hey Ares randomly random didn’t know you played soccer. I mean, coaching Coirpre…_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I played many sports growing up, my dad wanted to build me up because I’m their only child._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
So you were born an IKEA shelf?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Well, I was a timid, polite kid._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Is that why you glare murderously but kinder than an IKEA shelf now ^^_

… I can’t resist myself. I want to pursue the truth, but the way he said that was just…

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _That is irrelevant, rabbit._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You shouldn’t reply with a red face because that may turn you into a crab._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Fair point. Noted!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
So why are you the Black Knight again~?_

... I—sent it! Ooooh gosh—I—

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Honestly, I don’t know._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Is it because you mostly dress in black and own five similar black belts?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Haha, If that was the answer, I’d be so happy._

Huh?

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Seats are secured? Perfecttt. Need something from Walmart?? I’m gonna pass by._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Uhhhh Larcei can you like grab a Tampax or two for me. I hate this lol I want to murder people. I even feel like breaking a fight just so I can fight everyone in the fight myself! I guess that’s why I felt so lethargic yesterday and even prior for cooking that pudding. Hnnnggghhh I WANNA DIEEE._

Alright, now to wait for Larcei! To kill time before the class starts, I decide to recheck my draft and notes so I can present them nicely to Professor Forseti. My mind lingers to Ares again, and then to that jock who stopped me near the bread counter. Should I tell him, should I not… because if he is honest, then I should be able to get the whole story directly from him. But under what basis do I demand him to tell me the truth? Especially if it is something he does not feel like talking about? I mean… I’m not… Ares’ anything. I keep telling him we are friends because I want him to be able to accept kindness too, but now I’m not sure if he truly wants to be around me or I’m like in one of those situations like accidentally contracting a virus and there is nothing you can do about it.

Regardless, I’m going to ace Forseti’s class with the blessing of the architecture department~! Ah, great, Larcei is here! She’s rushing into the class, sweaty and looking exactly half-dead.

“Thanks,” she mutters when I pull the chair for her. “Can’t believe I outran Olwen to get here. Gods.”

“Olwen is FAST,” I take a pack of tissue out of my purse.

“I know,” Larcei sighs, accepting my tissue. “Forseti?”

“Hasn’t come. Ummm, sorry, did you bring it? I’m dying.”

“Bring what?” Larcei quickly takes out her phone. “Oh. The Walmart quest. But you didn’t reply.”

“No way. Let me check,” I follow suit, drawing out my phone. “… Oh dear gods.”

“What happened?” Larcei dumps her bag on the desk to take out her bullet journal.

“… I missent my reply for you!!” I gasp, my hand covering my mouth. “No way. NO WAY.”

“Huh? Just tell them then,” Larcei speaks again, this time taking out her pencil case.

“… Larcei. I was asking you to get me a tampon,” I feel like a cat got my tongue. “… Sent that to Ares.”

“OH MY FUCK.”

“I know, right,” I grimace now. “He was the last person I talked to! Gods. Now I _do_ want to die.”

“So you’ve been texting Ares back and forth then,” Larcei looks at me.

“Exchanging direct messages on Instagram!!” I quickly retort. “I don’t even know his number!”

“But Lene, that’s just… the same. Alright, never mind,” Larcei sighs. “You’ve been on phone with him.”

“I knooow. The hell he has not responded yet then?” I bite my lips.

“… He dies?” Larcei offers her opinion. Great, just great.

“But why?”

“Man sees the word tampon on it. So naturally, and usually, he will die.”

“Ares is only alleged human though,” I fiddle with my phone again. “So what should I do??”

“Kill Ares before he reads it.”

“It’s already more than five seconds. The text is contaminated with germs.”

“Then kill Ares. There’s no other way,” Larcei hurriedly get up from her seat. “I will help you.”

“Perfect. He’s alone in the drawing room, doing a gazebo,” I nod.

“Doing a gazebo?! What a freak.”

“LARCEI.”

“Oh, _drawing_ you mean. Why are you fond of saying he does… well, insert any object there again?”

“Why are you interrogating me?! Our mission is preying the lion,” I nearly tumble on my shoes to follow her. Glancing at the folks behind us, I smile at them. “Whoever steal our seats will be castrated, got it?”

We barely leave the classroom when the alleged lion demon himself shows up before us. The pen he’s holding in the selfie he sent me is tucked behind his ear, and something like A2-sized paper is neatly rolled in the crook of his arm. His backpack is slung over his shoulder and he’s clutching a… plastic bag.

“I’m looking for a Lene Bragi of the performing arts major. The one and only Lene that is a dancer.”

M-me? Also, why did he say it like he’s asking for a fight?! And more importantly…

I can’t believe everyone opens the way for him, like he’s some sort of a conqueror who just breached the wall of Constantinople! People quickly disperse around him, and one girl did a Cross at me with a _frightened_ look. What? “Black Knight is out for the diva’s blood!” they say, squirming here and there like worms on a sunny day as they line up to make a way for me!

“Perfect timing. We’re just about to kill you,” Larcei slams her knuckles against each other.

“Can that wait? I have a delivery for her,” Ares smirks, holding up the small plastic bag to me. “Bye now. Try to kill me again next time after I finish this gazebo.”

“Huh…” Larcei and I can only gape when he withdraws. We return to our seats with me clutching the bag in my hands, under the watchful concerned looks from everyone else who seems to be in utter disbelief that the Black Knight came and left in peace. What’s with these people, I swear to God!

“… My,” I poke Larcei in the ribs. She tilts her head at me, peeking into the bag. Inside there is a… shit, yes, there are about five tampons of various… ahem, sizes and variants in there. But not only that, there are also a pack of strawberry Pocky and two chocolate bars with… ibuprofen. Oh—gods.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_  
** _A R E S I SWEAR TO GOD_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
What?_

I mean—he calmly walked into a pharmacy or something and just grabbed… those??

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _YOU COULD HAVE SAID I MISSENT_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I simply thought since you’re in class there’s no time to buy them yourself. The Walmart is not far from my building. I needed some drink, I’ve been drawing for 90 minutes non-stop. Then your text came._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
**INSTAGRAM DIRECT MESSAGES, EXCUSE YOU_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
As you wish._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
YOU ARE LAUGHING, AREN’T YOU_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Because this whole thing is dumb, huh? =_=;;;_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
No. Why would a grown man be intimidated by some sanitary products?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You… are you actually human-human at all… ^^;;;;_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Shapeshifted well today so the cashier rang my purchase._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
But those are chocolates! :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Indeed, what of it?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
AND STRAWBERRY POCKYYYY_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Pink aren’t they, rabbit?_

… G-gods. AAAAAAA—

“L-Larcei. He is not human,” I tug on Larcei’s sleeves like a kid. Gods. Gosh. But. HOOOMYGOD!!

Larcei pats me sympathetically, however. “To his credits, he did not back down at all at that, huh,” she points out at the bag again. “Five, really? … Gods be damned though, he tried.”

I share one of the chocolate bars with Larcei, nearly slam my forehead against the desk choking on my own laughter. Somehow this feels hilarious. Somehow this is also endearing. Somehow I feel… warm. He is probably an alleged human, but beast is an entirely different matter… right?

At the same time I feel so sad somehow. If he is like this, that Black Knight title feels so… off.

* * *

 

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _S-so, that’s what happened. Asdf._

I contemplate to ask Fee about the rumors… the ring, the fights, but…

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
… So Black Knight drinks Respect Women juice?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Considering how  protective he is about his mother… perhaps?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Pffft. Lene, you’re not his mother tho 8)_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Of course I’m not. OMG—can it be that he’s irritated because I mom’d him???_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _-voluntary facepalm-_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Or… OOHHHH but what if he’s one of those Oedipus complex guys???_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Uhhh I don’t think it’s the case._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
But now that you said it, he can be!! What a shame, someone so handsome and nice like that._

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Handsome and nice?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Right?? Come to think of it even his black clothing isn’t all bad. Those kinda fit him don’t you think? And he’s got that beautiful blond hair to make Apollo green with envy. Besides, his shirts are actually tailored well to fit his build. He’s got a comforting sweet smile, actually. I mean._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
… Lene._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
It’s like god of war getting kicked out of the Olympus and be like SCREW YOU ASSHOLE SUPREME GOD-DAD I’LL MAKE MYSELF SO STUNNING HERCULES WOULD HAVE CALLED ME SEXY._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
LENE_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _And then god of war went on Earth kicking ass and serving looks while stealing Vulcan’s job doing construction here and there as a landscape architecture major. See, told you, he’s alleged human._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
… Oh, okay, I GOT IT NOW HAHAHAHAH. You’re so cute lololol_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Huh? Ummm reply me later cuz I think I heard the door lol it must be Coirpre._

Fee does not reply. Cute? Me? I mean—what did I do again? This is weird.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Anyway, Fee, ummm have you by chance heard about Ares and ehhh… sports competition perhaps?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Didn’t he engage in outdoor activities tho? Heard from Ced because one time he and this kid from his class Asvel attended a tutoring session with Leif. In applied maths. I thought you already knew, he seems to be… how do I phrase this, open, I guess? But only to you._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Leif tutored kids?? Omg_

Also, Ares is only open to me? What is he, a snack stand?!

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Magi Squad study group or something. Leif needed his extra money._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Wouldn’t have thought. His family is well-off or so I heard. Probably not filthily abundant like Julius’, but._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Yeah, his mom is a nurse. His dad works office with a family friend. Paralegal and finance IIRC. But Leif is a self-made person. He’s always been, but not the lonewolf version like Ares :P_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Haha, but they are friends tho!_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Yeahhh lol. That family friend married Ares’ aunt._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
HOLY SHIT YOU KNOW ALL THE JUICIEST NEWS IN TOWN_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _I’ve got that dude Arthur too on my speed dial in case you’re wondering 8) remember him? Tinny’s bro? The journalism and broadcasting guy?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
YOU GOT ARTHUR ON SPEED DIAL??_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Ooops gotta check the door. Perhaps it’s Ced!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
BITCHHH DON’T RUN_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Lololoool but really it’s Ced! Your Coirpre should be home soon, right? Ced is a MF. I hope Coirpre is doing well too! Next time, bare your Ares, I’ll tell you about Arthur and me. XOXO~ see yaaa l8r~_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
MF? … Fee, he is still a kid omfg…_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
What?? MF being middle-fielder I mean! Hey, how’s Coirpre?_

Bare my Ares? First of all, it is not even _my_ Ares. Because I assure you, Ares is supposed to be Zeus’ very angry son. And why would I ‘bare’ Ares? He doesn’t need to be naked to make me tongue-tied.

… Well. I mean. Considering that one is a quirky nerd?!

And yes! Come to think of it, Coirpre should be home soon too. And I do recall he said the Coach… alright, that quirky alleged lion demon nerd assigned Ced as a middle-fielder. Hmmm, I wonder what position he made Coirpre play. Is it why my little brother is so stressed these days?

Speaking of the devil, I hear a faint sound from the front door.

“Coirpre?” I crane my neck to locate him. He arrived so soundly, did he just try to quietly slip away? Thinking of this only makes me sadder and sadder. Have I appeared so judgmental or worrying that he can’t even trust me enough to… linger around? He must have taken off his shoes probably even before he gets inside so he can walk… undetected. Is there a way to… make him feel more comfortable?

Let me think…

Ah, yeah—the Master Cakes money I set aside the other day is still there. Perhaps he’s just frustrated. Like, puberty-induced frustration. I have a thirty, and with the twenty which that kind mother gave me the other day, we could afford the casserole combo. After all, feeding Ares did take some of the spaghetti out of the container. I’m not complaining, of course—foods must be eaten, anyway.

I heard him using the bathroom, so I tip-toe my way to speak to him. With the door barrier between us, he’ll probably feel more at ease. “Coirpre, want some casserole tonight? And strawberry pie, perhaps?”

“That sounds good, I’m starving,” he groans from the bathroom.

Starving? Ah, perfect timing!

“Wew. Tone down your earth-cultivating activity, young man.”

“H-haha, sorry about that, Sis,” he answers. I giggle a little hearing that, because he groans again. Really?

“What about the lunchies?” I shout at the bathroom again.

“I’m in the mood for homemade cooking!” he responds.

“Hello then, old Coirpre~ my, you did not last long,” I giggle. So… everything is going to return to normal, right? Everything is only going to be better from now on, I suppose?

“Yeah!! I’m starving, I can eat a horse!”

“Ha, now you’re talking! Good, let us feed you then,” I grin. I hope he is getting better at the field too! Hmmm, he actually ate a lot of that spaghetti the other day. And I did pack his instant lunches with extra peanut butter sandwich for him. Perhaps he’s just growing. “... Coirpre, are you…”

“N-nooo. Not taking magazine or pictures with me inside. No. Uh—i-is that what… aaaahhh, sorry!!”

“Gods. It’s alright, it’s alright,” I can’t contain my laughter any longer. “Okay, I’ll order the casserole.”

“Sounds good, Sis,” he answers in a relieved tone. “I can pay for it if you don’t have the cash!”

Huh? “Nooo, Coirpre. We agreed that we are not going to use your allowance for important things.”

“Then what do I earn my money for,” he grunts, “if I can’t spend it like the big man I am?”

“You don’t earn it. I gave you because that’s what I am supposed to do,” I chuckle again.  

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hiii Lionheart Kitchen! I wanna take the casserole combo with Master Cakes. Thx for the_ _price list._

 **_lionmeals  
_ ** _Glad to help! At your service. Do you have any specific requests?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I’ll take the strawberry pie and uh… I want the Portuguese sausage casserole but can you please add more vegetables in it? I’m willing to pay more for the extra veg._

Well, Coirpre will need that if he’s constipated. Gods, after Pocky and now the pie, I sincerely hope Ares’ lion radar does not detect that someone here likes strawberries probably a little bit too much. Sigh.

 **_lionmeals  
_ ** _Very well! The_ _name and the address please?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… There. Do you want my number as well~? :D_

 **_lionmeals_ ** _  
It will be convenient, yes. Thank you!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
My brother seems to be in a better mood after ice cream. I’ll check out if he’s still got bruises. Thx again._

 **_lionmeals_ ** _  
Pardon—bruises?_

Alright Ares I get that you want to sound professional and probably replied me out of concern the other day since I mentioned bruises and because you coach Coirpre but… acting dumb? Really now?

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Uh, the ball thingy? I mean, the soccer you discussed? Anyway, what will you be wearing? This summer night is pretty hot hehehe~ are you going to boil yourself alive in yet another black attire?_

W-what did I just.

AaaaaaahHHHHHhhhh—

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _FEE HELP ME I BLURTED OUT WHAT HE’LL WEAR, WHY ARE YOU FRIENDS WITH ME AGAIN SOBS I’M SO STUPID I’M WORSE THAN BOILED CARROT WHAT WILL HE WEAR, I WROTE. I MEAN. GODS, I’M DUMB!!_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
‘He’, who? NOT MY DAD??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
NO?? WHY WOULD I ASK PROF FORSETI WHAT HE WORE, IT’S ARESSSS_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Oh, only him. I thought you missent a nuclear code. Did you text Scipio?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
GOSHDANGIT WHY WOULD I?? I have enough curtains without his bangs._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Omfggg lololoool okay but what’s the emergency now, it’s just Ares._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
What do you mean just Ares asdf what if he responds. Can’t imagine what he says._

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _… A Trojan? ;))_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
FEE IS2G_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
At least he’s not going to clad himself in black this time? :D_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
FEEEEEEEE_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Girl you scream out the wrong name XX_

G-Gods. Gods. Okay, that’s—

 **_lionmeals  
_ ** _… Good evening, interested customer. This is Eldigan of Lionheart Kitchen. I kindly ask you to never send something like this ever again to my wife. Thank you._

Oh my God?!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OMG MR/S NORDION SORRY I THOUGHT YOU WERE ARES BECAUSE_

Sent prematurely.

 **_lionmeals  
_ ** _You meant to send that to our son? Ah. Pardon my misunderstanding, young lady._

HwaT?!

“Coirpre, watch the door for me! If your casserole comes, the money is on the counter,” I drown myself under the sofa cushions after tripping on Coirpre’s backpack he just dumped at the parlor. Hhhh! It feels like forever until the door rings, followed by a courteous—if not faint “Good evening” from there.

“Coach N?” Coirpre chirps, tripping on the bathroom mat. “Wow, it’s really you!”

“Oops,” Ares mutters the moment Coirpre runs against his chest, face-first. “Yeah, I’m versatile enough.”

“Sorry about that, Coach,” Coirpre grins. “Virile?”

“Versatile, junior rabbit,” I can hear Ares cackling this time. “You and your sister have similar traits of misdoing things in the most interesting way possible.”

“But why are you here?” Coirpre asks again. “Are you meeting my sister?”

“I’m your casserole guy,” Ares responds in a kind manner.

“Ooooh! So you help running a catering and teach us soccer! You must be a busy man.”

Wow, Coirpre lowkey admires Ares now, huh? I cook all the time and that blonde lion only needs to stroll in with a casserole to make my brother drop to his knees? I probably shouldn’t pout, but I did.

“Probably,” Ares’ voice sounds closer, perhaps he’s getting inside from the door. “Next time don’t just jump into the door like that, alright? Check first. Especially if you don’t recognize the voice.”

“Noted!~ Teach me more!”

“I will. So don’t be late or leave earlier next time.”

Coirpre left early and came late?

“What’s buried under that pile?” Ares’ voice graces the room again. C-crap.

“My sister,” Coirpre replies solemnly. “I think she’s dead after ordering the casserole, Coach.”

“How curious. May I check?” From under this pile I can see Ares’ leonine smirk is back to grace that audacious face of his, so instead of picking myself up like a legit human, I decide to react like an alleged human—keeping still, so still like a fermented cheese in a factory and bury my face deeper.

“Sure!” Coirpre chirps again. Coirpre—you traitor bastard. “Anyway, the money is on the counter.”

“Alright. I take the money, you take the food to cut for your sister.”

“But she is dead. Can’t eat.”

“Alleged rabbit can,” Ares replies casually. Judging from the shadow looming over me, he’s probably just above me now. And yes he is—because I feel a hand removing a cushion off my face, slowly, gently, like he’s trying to wake up Aurora from her slumber. “Evening, Lene.”

“I’m dead, come back later,” I mutter weakly. Somehow I really don’t have the courage to look at him…

“Later?” why the hell he has to repeat it softly like that?!

“W-well…” I finally drag myself out of this miserable pile of cushion, facing the lion standing before me. “H-huh? No black.” Right! His pants are dark brown and he wears a sleeveless red shirt!

“So, does it answer your question?” he musters a small smirk again.

“Question? What question—oh—gods,” I try to suppress the coughing fit I totally did not plan on having, gloriously failing to do so as I bring my hands onto my face. “… Sorry about that.”

“My mother was so _giddy._ I didn’t expect…” he clears his throat, taking out his phone. “So I guess…”

I quickly search for my phone from under the pile. Huh? A call?

“That’s my number,” he says, pocketing his phone back again. “In case of emergency.”

Oh, right, I gave out my number on Instagram to Lionheart Kitchen. And sure, emergency. H-haha, right, emergency. Of course it has to be emergency, right? It’s because he coaches Coirpre, right? Because he’s not the chatty type, right? And he can’t possibly want me, like, you know, to text and everything—

… What did I just think again?

“I feel like I need to do something for your mother,” I murmur, peeling myself off the sofa this time. “I’ve got an idea. Hey, Coirpre, why don’t you take out the pudding I made? The pudding you didn’t even eat!”

“Gulp. Okay. And don’t worry, Master Cakes first, yours second,” Coirpre disappears to do what I asked.

“If you would take this for your mother?” I whisper to Ares, moving some slices into a container. “You deliver sweets too but you hardly taste them? Here’s some~! Fingers crossed it is good enough!”

“Homemade as well?”

“Of course! I’m the miser everyone warns you about,” I chuckle.

“… Ah.”

Again, an ‘Ah’ after I said what I gave him is homemade cooking? Why?

“Are you… are you alright, Coach N?” Coirpre watches cautiously when Ares just stands. “You know what Sis, I’m getting him some water. I can’t believe you just tried to murder my coach.”

“… He’s gone,” Ares licks his lips, clearing the pudding I made him try.

“He is,” I say, feeling so… shy, being left alone with him so suddenly like this. “How was it? This probably isn’t much considering your mother is a cook anyway, b-but. Please, just—just take it! And tell her I’m so sorry! I guess the other day you helped your mother with the queries, huh? Anyway! Uh—how do I convey to her that I don’t mean to insult her profession? I just want to…”

I stop talking because he nods, bowing as he approaches me to match my height. “I prefer yours.”

… His voice is so tender too…

“You like—my food? I can’t believe it!”

“Why not?” he chuckles. “Not overwhelming but surprisingly warm. Perhaps that’s why it’s nicely sweet.”

“Warm?” I frown. Again, just like the spaghetti! “But I put it in the fridge... oh, gods, now I’m worried. Has it gone bad? Is my fridge possessed?” I quickly get a slice for myself, cussing because the pudding’s mango syrup stains my lips when my spoon missed. “H-haha, you must think I’m not cute at all.  Well, I don’t mean to say that I think that _you_ think I’m cute, but you see, being an art major, a dancer, and for someone who does makeup  videos, there has to be a certain image by now, isn’t it? I’ve got a temper I guess. That night when I took Coirpre shopping I called Scipio a barbarian, and then...”

Why do I keep talking? Why—

“You’re not a mind reader,” he cuts in. “Specifically, not _my mind’s_ reader.”

“Eh…”

“Ah, you’ve got syrup on your face,” he says, running his finger just like what he did at the library. Our eyes meet again, and somehow there’s this... strong... throbbing in my chest. I don’t know why—or rather, how—that simply exchanging intense gazes with him like this makes it feel like there’s heat rising from under to my face. I don’t recall anyone else to ever make me feel this way. I mean—at least—to _excite_ me this way. This much. And he doesn’t even try. He isn’t even being extra to impress me; if anything it’s those little sincere, honest acts he did which just...

“... You said you didn’t waste food,” I respond. Suddenly I’m curious. I want to know his story, his life in which he is the Black Knight and even before then. I’ve seen those arms move to injure another, but at the same time I’ve seen them move to protect... me. And I wonder if they also… hold—

He approaches closer. Black Knight, they called him. Black Knight, Black Knight, Black Knight. And then they accuse me of acting prissy like I’m playing a good nextdoor girl in a wolf’s skin. The girl who acts like a nun but strips her habit to have them replaced with lingerie when it’s convenient.

… I’m just a girl, though.

 _That one is a conqueror,_ I recall what my friends said. That jock thinks I’m naïve. But most of these stories about him bear the same voice. Then will he… conquer… me? I mean. W-well. They thought I’m playing pure. Then they thought he was a beast.

He moves again, his hand stretched out to reach me. I thought he’s going to reach for my hair, or rather, you know—straight swallowing me up like a spoil of war a conqueror has won. I wait in anticipation, wondering what he will do. The sofa is right behind me. Or will he not, because of Coirpre? ….

But just like what he did at the library, he simply runs his finger against my skin to clean me. Taking a ply of the tissue on the coffee table, he wipes his hand clean instead of licking it like he did prior.

… For a reason I can’t really decipher into words, I feel so… ashamed. This means he rejects me, right? Perhaps he thinks I’m creepy. Or perhaps he had some other… expectation of me and got disappointed because I’m not what he thought I was. I shouldn’t care. But I do. And somehow I’m sad. … But why?

“Coach? Sis?”

Coirpre is back with the water he promised and some… eugh, stomachache-reliever syrup. And I just want to be dead again on the sofa, buried under those cushions wishing he never saw me in the first place. Why am I like this? Why am I…

“No stomachache or choking?” Coirpre grins.

“Of course not,” Ares shakes his head with a smile. “Your sister is a formidable person.”

Ares does not say anything else after that. He merely spares a kind smile at me and heads out. Coirpre is basically bouncing to send him off, probably way more enthusiastic than usual. And there’s me, slumping on the sofa with my phone beside me, feeling so utterly embarrassed and drained that I’m still there, not able to say anything else even when Ares is finally out of our sight to retrieve the motorcycle he has parked at the basement lot.

Not long after, I can hear a sound of an ignited machine. Coirpre is closing the door, and I sluggishly drag myself to my room. From my window I can see him driving away, and for the first time after the surge of sadness I contained when I took Coirpre to buy his lunch that night, I collapse on my bed.

I feel so stupid. Perhaps Ares is just being nice to me. Perhaps I’ve been being too nice to him too.

… After all, someone like him is not someone I’m supposed to warm myself to, no? After all, I don’t think someone like me will make a fine addition into his life. The lonewolf’s life where he lingers and goes as he pleases. Where he is only there when he wants to be found. When he is not… concerned by trivial things, including the well-being of my brother.

Perhaps that grocery night was a mistake. Things would be better had he not found out that Coirpre and I were related. … Right? But then again he doesn’t need to play nice to me like that. Yeah, perhaps life has always been hard for me, but he doesn’t need to… pity me, you know?

I’m a person. I have feelings. I have thoughts. I’m not… anyone’s project.

… And perhaps he is not either. Have I treated him as one so far?

My phone vibrates near me. Perhaps…

_I stole a bite before the container reached my mother. Anyway, this is Ares._

H-huh?

I quickly tap a reply.

_You texted me :O_

… I should have written something better than that. See, gods, I’m stupid. Of course he texted me, that’s obvious, judging from the screen and where I received that message, duh!

_Testing the new number in my contact._

Of course. Of course. It’s got to be an emergency. And a test is semi-qualified to be a valid reason to text.

_Well, your text arrived, food bandit._

I’m a formidable person, he said. Then I’ll show you what formidability is. I’ll show you strength. The kind of strength that is not manifested in balled fists or sharp kicks. I’m not losing to you, Ares.

_Yours too. I can conveniently text you next time then._

Texting me… next time?

_What if your mom finds the container empty ;P_

_Exactly why I’m getting her cheeseburgers._

_You emptied the container all by yourself??_

_Half. … Couldn’t help myself._

... Huh? But he said he did not eat sweets often because he doesn’t like sweet taste?

“Sis, the pie…” Coirpre lightly taps my shoulder from behind the sofa, and I almost jolt, dropping my phone. “It’s so good. Gods, it’s like tonight is full of stars,” he chirps, taking a seat beside me with the comfortable cushions around us, with Master Cake’s excellent strawberry pie set beside Lionheart Kitchen’s equally mind-blowing sausage casserole.

“I guess,” I respond. My voice is soft, and I clutch my phone closer to my chest.

_Uh, be safe & don’t text while driving, alright?_

_Yes =] Thank you again._

Texting.

… Yeah, this is texting then. We are texting. Ares is texting me. I’m texting Ares…

Coirpre is right. The foods are superb. I can't help myself either.


	8. Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOREWORD I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LENGTH OH GOD 
> 
> I did warn you guys on the first chapter that this got longer than I planned because of the reasons stated there as well but God, I'm so sorry.

I wake up to the bright sun peeking into my windows. Strange, for a moment I feel so surprised for remembering that it is a Saturday I wake up to. I don’t recall how many times I forgot everything other than the date of the day because days feel like fleeting to me, in between of my own activities and being so dead-dead when I’m finished with the house chores at night.

I still need to coach. Gods, I almost forget about that.

But still, the sun is so beautiful in the morning. The park probably is beautiful as well…

And then my arm feels a bit numb. Huh? Weird. I felt so peaceful last night—the only explanation why I slept so soundly, even quieter than a newborn baby. And it was a dreamless one too! I’ve never felt so contended in my life before—I mean, even if my days are not just made out of troubles, usually a good day for me simply means that everything proceeds as usual and ends as usual. Of course, even better if some nice things happen, like getting good grades or… getting paid.

This one is not it. Yes that I should receive my paycheck from the Thracia Academy soon. Yes that Professor Forseti greenlighted my paper even if he had to smirk when he saw the reference book I’m using. But other than that, there are still unresolved issues around—like how I need to allocate my resources even tighter until my paycheck arrives, how I will still need to do the paper altogether, how I need to think something good to figuratively slap Saias’ serene face for that kinesiology research-but-not-really assignment he gave our class.

 **_namelessclassmate_ ** _Look at this questionnaire what should I do with this SQUARE UP SAIAS WE FIGHT_

 **_borntobewildkinesiologyisafuck10000deadmuscles_ ** _I’m gonna defend my topic with a sword._

 **_cogitoergomortem_ ** _I’m gonna quit university and become a serial killer thx to this assignment_

 **_lemonpiemasterrace_ ** _Me, watching kids playing for 3 days straight because of kinesiology: I swear I’m not a creep I don’t even drive a van and I’m deathly allergic to peanut candies._

My kinesiology classmates are flooding my Instagram newsfeed with photos of Saias’ assignment, a pile of books they are reading, or basically lamenting Saias’ merciless kinesiology order he bestowed upon us with a smile. I quickly make a mental note to tell Reinhardt that he may be sadistic.

The funny thing is I’m still feeling so serene! Everyone is dead panicking over the kinesiology assignment they need to outline in three days, and I’m just here waking up feeling like some rich girl on Instagram or even a true celebrity so rich that people are sending cameras and reporters just to get a glimpse of me in the early morning. I feel so… powerful. And contended. And at peace.

… Too peaceful, however! Now I start wondering if I’m dead!! This instance is rare, s-so why?? It’s like the meanest person on earth can verbally chew me right here right now and I’ll just smile and laugh. 

_My mother liked the pudding. She’d love to thank you personally._

Oh, so that is why my arm feels a bit numb. I’ve been sleeping with my phone under me! And that’s…

_Anyway, good morning._

Texts. Sent even before I woke up?

Why, today is going to be great…

I don’t know why, I just know it is! … This is so weird. I don’t understand. Ares sent me two texts and the sun appears brighter than it already is?

_Thanking me personally? :O_

Sent.

_Good morning to you tooooo ^O^_

... I know I can fit those two in one text but.

 _Yes. Don’t worry about her being a chef_ _:)_

I did not anticipate his reply to arrive this fast...

_I hope you slept well because I did._

Oh my—God? It’s like he caught the same tranquil feeling I did! Someone understands!

_This morning is so peaceful :O_

That’s not because he managed to feed on human’s blood last night, right?

_It really is. I’m so well-rested. Somehow._

_Haha, is it because you’ve been dead for ages considering you’re a demon? ^^_

Why can’t I... be... cute... even just for five seconds...

Hold on. WHY would I want to be cute again? Let alone—being cute while replying to Ares?

_How many demons do you know loved their mango pudding?_

L-loved. Loved mango pudding?

_LOVED??_

_Yes? I’ve got a tongue :)_

_... I know you’re not human but please don’t say that with a smiley ^^;;;_

_I’ve got a taste. Don’t you have tongue too?_

Imagining him retyping with a straight face makes me want to jump there to yank his mullet!

 _Would I empty half of the container for something I hate?  
_ _P/S My father restrained me_ _from taking the last slice._

... The Nordions had a dinner table drama out of... my pudding?

_You... engaged your father out of THAT? ^^;_

_We locked joints thinking_ _it was for Mom but  
_ _HE TOOK THE LAST SLICE_

L… locking joints? Out of my pudding? Sounds like the Nordion household was pretty merry last night, huh? Perhaps a lion demon family does have a different way to pass the night compared to a human.

_Hehe Ares you could fit those in one text you know~_

.... I’m dumb.

_My phone, my prerogative, rabbit._

… Of course. Sigh.

_Here’s another text._

… Alright?

_You sent that just to spite me, didn’t you -_-“_

_Were you annoyed?_

N-not at all actually.

_Yes? X(_

_Concerned of my phone bill?_

Actually yes and no, but. N-not really.

_Yes??_

Good God, why do I keep saying things I did not mean to??

_Or is it because I texted?_

NOOOO! Actually—

_... No... u_u_

First of all, gods, GLAD that I still have a functioning brain. Second of all though, WHY does that alleged functioning brain have to work like a cactus? I did not mean to sound so demure like I’m blushing! And why did I even put the emoji in the text? That emoji was supposed to be in my head only!

… Okay, for a reason I can’t fathom, I _am_ blushing.

_Are my texts bothering you?_

Noooo Ares. Nooo. Brain, work for me for the second time!

_No, they gave me pleasure!_

… How do I _fistfight_ my own brain?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Good Saturday morning Reinrein can you ask Saias how does one medically FISTFIGHT a brain?_

 **_thunderingwithpride  
_ ** _I—my apologies, come again?_

_I MEAN. I do not hate your texts!!_

Right, right. I _have_ to clarify that.

_I do not hate you either…_

Why do I sound so demure?! I’m not cute, I’m SCARY! … S-supposedly so…

_Actually Ares you know what I don’t hate YOU texting me and I love receiving your texts and_

Aaaah how come that one got sent?! I thought I was just formulating my thoughts by writing them down knowing well my brain is a drunk cactus! Hnnn!

_Lene, you are not a burden for me to text._

Eh…?

_Or to reply._

He must have so much money for his phone bills!

_I asked because I do not want to force my presence on you._

 Ah…

_Again, you are not MY mind reader._

Eeeeh??

_P-please tell me you’re not angry._

_Lost the ability weeks ago somehow._

_You can’t get angry anymore?? :OO_

_At a rabbit._

_-Virtual mullet yanking-_

Look at how coherent, intelligent, and great I am at responding! … Not. Sigh.

_Ouch :)_

He responded… so casually…

… That’s not because he is treating me like a child, I hope? I get that he is older and _taller_ , but…

_I’m not a child, you know… =_=;;_

_Of course you are not._

_Maybe you think I’m childish… TToTT_

_Not at all._

_Maybe you have the patience of a saint ^^;;_

_I am not you :)_

See, each time I want to reconsider whether he is actually human, everything says otherwise! And me, patient? He has seen me making various threats ranging from yanking his mullet and entertaining the idea of castration, so it can’t be, right? Ares may only be alleged human, but the very least about him I’m sure of is that he is tamer than what demons are supposed to be.

(Or so I think. Sigh.)

… However as much as I wish I could, I cannot deny that I actually… enjoy exchanging banter with him like this. And as always there is something comforting and reliable in the way he replies me; something that speaks certainty that he does mean whatever he said and that I can be myself without having to appear… pleasant like other guys seem to demand of me. And there is a comfort in that—knowing that he does not appear to harbor a certain image about me that he hopes I will fulfill, knowing that he simply interacts with Coirpre like he does any other person even though he does not seem to be someone who fancies a crowd. Knowing he does not… cringe.

I don’t know why but I feel warm inside when thinking of these things…

… But what does Ares think of me? Am I just being positive about him or is he… too polite to voice his distaste of me? I wonder if he felt anything when talking to me.

I—I mean, considering I have this weird-ass warm feeling deep inside my chest??

Speaking of which, w-wew, I forgot to save and name his number in my phone! I don’t even really remember what happened last night—I mean, after he texted me on the road about stealing bites to eat half of the pudding by himself. I pictured him waiting for the cheeseburgers he got for his mother at some drive-thru, probably bored the way I was at the photocopy stand that he played with his phone.

Hnnn! What’s so special about that, though?! Everyone plays with their phone when they are bored or idle, or simply when there is nothing better to do. Like when being in the bathroom or something. I, too, played with my phone and messaged Ares a couple… alright, alright, _many_ times through Instagram! So what’s so special about Ares doing this?

I uh—I know I could always send memes to Larcei and Fee or asking for cat pictures from Lana because she is interning at an animal rescue center. Larcei watches many movies—from the artsy philosophical ones which make you feel like you need to lie down due to suffering from sudden existential crisis to adrenaline-pumping action movies especially when it features a badass female protagonist. The last time she dragged me to watch one of her movies, it was _So Close_ she downloaded from a pirate site and I had to admit—the female assassin who literally kicked ass and killed men in a beautiful white tailored suit gave me such a deep impression that I had to question myself about being cool in the lawful way.

And of course, there’s Fee. The girl who knows all the news and gossips around Jugdral-U, also the girl who just knows when a new eatery is open or having a promo! Without the girls my life would have been thrice emptier and miserable, but…

… But in the end, during those idle hours, the person I engaged often turned out to be Ares.

Of course Ares appeared scared at the idea of having to eat sweet, _sweet-as-fuck_ parfait when I forwarded a dessert shop post Fee had shared with me. Ares is not going to giggle along with me the way Larcei and Fee do their dramatic reading of sex advice column from glossy magazines. And Ares had to really ask if I’d recognize Hello Kitty as Hello Kitty instead of Mimi or Daniel if she did not have her red ribbon on, before proceeding to truly, truly message me about whether or not Cinnamoroll’s ears contain a small dynamo which allows her to spin like a helicopter. Then he said if he were to establish himself as a dictator, the first decree he would announce would be firing many action movie actors to have them replaced by their own stuntmen because more often than not, stuntmen are the ones who can actually fight. The thing is, when I jokingly proposed to him to audition as an action movie actor, he kind of… _blushed._ Oh, gods, this nerd!

Strangely enough I did not find anything… bad about those at all. This same Ares also asked if I liked the parfaits even though personally he thought such sweetness would be his death. This Ares will still reply regardless of whatever I throw into his Instagram inbox. His comments are typically concise the way he typically speaks in real life—but at the same time they are also sincere, so sincere that it almost feels like the kind of innocent sincerity you thought adults do not have anymore.

Of course I messed with him. I’d send him a photoset of beautifully-woven kilts knowing well he and fashion are not even a match. Ares being Ares of course replied by saying Gaelic warriors in the old age hid a dagger called the sgian dubh behind their socks. When I sent him a photo of an Elie Saab gown, he asked if ‘those little glowy things’ were actual crystals sewn tight into the dress or some sort of… chains.

“Kinky,” Fee told me when I showed my phone to her.

Before I could counter, Ares followed up his reply by saying if the tailoring could hold crystals intact, then the dress could conceal a rapier.

Of course the girls had to collectively facepalm the moment I showed them his reply, but…

… Somehow it was all endearing. Like he was just there, trying his best to follow _my_ topics. Most importantly, he _read_ them all without hesitation. And asked questions when he knew absolute-fuck-nothing about the things I talked about.

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Girls around me mentioned they wanted to wear Mary Magdalene. Isn’t she already dead? Why skin her again? Not only that, why skin a holy woman?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Omggg lolololol noooo Aresss it’s a clothing brand ^^ popular for dresses like these! Behold!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Oh._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… I’m dumb._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I have dishonored my family._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
ARES IT’S ALRIGHT OMG IT’S JUST A DRESS BRAND_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Hmmm. Since me and pretty things aren’t a match, perhaps if you are around everything will improve._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Ares? :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
See, even my clown of a cousin agrees._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _What?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
He said your face is nice. This noodle ass is here for the weekend._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Uhhh—noodle… ass? And thank you, I guess? :OO_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Therefore I need to kick his head._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
HOLD ON_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_He can take a hit._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M ASKING ARESSSS OMG WHY_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Because your face is not his meal?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
BUT ARES_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… I—never mind._

I fiddle with my phone. Why, this feels like some artsy movie setting. Bright morning sun, feeling unusually contended and the shirt I wore to bed is cute. And I got nice foods to end the day. My little brother was so happy and I loved the strawberry pie so much!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _H-he texted me :O_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Lene?? He who?! What happened??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I mean… I’ve never. And he’s never._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
The Trojan broke?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
FEE CAN YOU BE SERIOUS GOSHDARNIT_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Lene it’s FUCKING 6:30 on a Saturday morning :)))) if we’re not friends I’d have GRILLED your boobs._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
HOLD ON COME AGAIN ARES TEXTED YOU GOOD MORNING YOU MEAN??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Uhhhh yeah? Actually, I wasn’t concerned about it, I’m afraid I poisoned his mom!!_

I sent her a screenshot of the good morning text.

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
“The Lion, Allegedly”?? Seriously, that’s what you named him?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
We’re no longer friends -_-“_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Pfffttt okay but srsly tho… YOU’RE SO CUTE MWAHAHAHAAA_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Cute what?? Do you think he’s human? That’s alleged-human propaganda._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
You know princesses of the ages past kept pet lions as their guards, right? :))))_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Is that all? I’m going back to sleep X_X_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
You can’t, you are coaching today :))))_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
FUUUUUUU_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
And the lion deterred suitors the princess did not want!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
FEE_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Hah! As if you can go back to sleep!! First you need to work. Second you KNOW you will reply him._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OH OKAY FUCK ME THEN THANK YOU KINDLY -_-_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Is that what you told Ares last night? ;)))_

 **_dancedancrebellion_ ** _  
I’m ending this =_=_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Oh, so you’re ready to unsubscribe from your daily Jugdral-U Juicytin?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Juicy… tin?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Juicy bulletin?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I’m gonna claw you myself_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Lololooool okay listen. If you think it’s just him learning to be human by saying good morning, why are you all flustered like this? You’ve got admirers, creepers, fans, haters. I mean. This isn’t new._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
GOD, BECAUSE IT’S ARES, DUH_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Theeere, answered your own question!! We’re still friends btw I’m not taking that as a breakup notice._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
What do you mean because it’s Ares? I asked you EXACTLY because it’s Ares!_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
You see you could have called him Deadpanned Rectangle Cardboard AND YET_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Omg what do you think what he meant by his mom wanting to personally thank me_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
I’ll ask Larcei._

 **_pheeew_ ** _added **larceiheyhey** and **nunsfighttoo** in the group: Cutie Quartet_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _joined the group Cutie Quartet_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _joined the group Cutie Quartet_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Hiii ladies! The topic is DEFCON 2 for Hurricane Black Knight. Discuss!_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Lene, you… fed him? :O_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
But you said his mother runs a catering business?_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
YOU FED HIM, BUT WITH WHAT, YOURSELF??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
NOOOOOOOO OMGGGG_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Too bad._

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
… Ares does… cannibalism?..._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
NOOOO OMFG NOOOOOO_

Gods, now my girls are all here, I can’t expect them to let me have my… blissfully serene morning.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I’m gonna take a bath ^^;;; have fun XOXO_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Who are you trying to fool here dear Lene WE KNOW you like #aesthetic bathing and only stop taking your phone everywhere if you are dead. It’s too early in the morning to be dead, so._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Bathing. For Ares or because of Ares?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
wHaT n0_

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _I’ll break the law for the first time in my life…_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _LANA I GET THAT HE’S A DEMON BUT DON’T PURIFY HIM JUST YET_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
I’ll creep on his Instagram._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OH_

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _Private profile :( I feel like his avatar of a motorcycle is laughing at me. Meanie…_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
He didn’t add you? But you’re close with Seliph! :O_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
He never!_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
I don’t even have his number. I don’t even know if Ced has his number._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
I don’t even realize he’s got a real name._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Omg… :OO_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
So you have his IG, number, and he told you his zodiac. What else?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
What number? ;)))_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
BEGONE FEE_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
His heart ^^_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
His selfies?_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
… Lana, I know she is struggling but selling organ is illegal, alright?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
HOLD ON GUUURL HE SENT YOU SELFIES???_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Is that weird? I took TONS of selfies :O_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
Then perhaps he trusts Lene deeply ^^_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Deeply thrusts Lene?_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
… Fee, maybe you need to get laid. No more internet of the day._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
I hate you, Larcei. I fucking hate you. Sigh, yes._

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
Maybe Lene is the help he never received ^^ I know it, you are so kind after all!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Lanaaa *sobs*_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
And if you think Ares is this person we don’t get, then maybe Ares is kind too ^^_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
That is certainly true…_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Right? I don’t think there’s anything we need to worry about!_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Why are you still here_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
BITCH DRAG ME YOURSELF I CAN GET LAID AND TEXT_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
… You are multitasking THAT right now?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
NOOOO OMFG GODDARNIT_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
^^;;;; … So everything is clear, right? Ares got his security clearance?_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
For now >:)_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Right!! If he ever mistreats you, we’ll drag him bald and make him bathe in his own blood!_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
And you know the rule of this land, castration_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
I’ll nail him to a cross_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
WOW THAT’S METAL_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Thank you : > I still have questions but so far he is so kind… _

**_pheeew_ ** _  
So you DO want our blessing after all >:)_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
THERE’S NOTHING HAPPENING BETWEEN US FOR NOW OMG but of course, we are besties ^^;; really though, he is actually much kinder than that murderous glare shows us. Even Seliph doesn’t hate him._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Irrelevant, that is Seliph._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
-representing collective sigh and agreeable nod-_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ares has never made me do things I do not want so far ^^ actually it was him who gave his number first._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
HE GAVE YOU HIS NUMBER??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
FEE ARE YOU GONNA BE SURPRISED AT EVERYTHING I SAID_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
LENE IT’S FUCKING ARES. SO OF COURSE._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
He said in case of emergency though :O_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Emergency good morning._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Emergency ‘your cooking gave me orgasm’_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
Emergency ‘meet my smitten mom your cooking gave her orgasm too’_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _OMFG LANA_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
You must have been hanging out with my dumb twin._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Then emergency good morning him back >:) HE GAVE HIS NUMBER, what is that for if not interaction, to be distributed to a telemarketer trying to sell you imported viagra with cable TV subscription as a bonus??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Y-you are creative… ^^;_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
Then I will volunteer. Nuns fight too! I’ll add this Black Knight of yours._

… Oh gods. Is Lana alright? It’s been five minutes without anything!! FIVE MINUTES!

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _… Approved?_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Really? I’ll volunteer too!_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Wow everyone went “I am Spartacus.” THEN I AM SPARTACUS!_

T-they collectively added Ares at the same time? Wew, Ares messaged me! Eh, screenshots?

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Are these your friends?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _WE ARE SISTERS BY DIFFERENT PARENTS_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Your bodyguards then, rabbit? :)_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… I am so sorry omg OTL_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Don’t be. They did the right thing._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Um, if you don’t want them there..._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I was just confused because suddenly I got three girls adding me in the span of a minute._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You’re not used to having pretty girls following you?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _No? Why would they? And it’s alright, if they are your best friends, I’m sure they are nice._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Thank you u_u_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Well I’d have thought there would be a few because you’re handsome and kind, so_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I MEAN_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Ah, finally you acknowledged I have a face._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
ARES_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I began doubting whether only I could see my own face._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… ^^;;; If you think so… then it works I guess… thank God you truly are not human._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
So?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Huh? :O_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _So? :)_

AAAAAA—

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_YOU CHEEKY TRIANGLE BREADROLLS HORSE-SHAPED CAKE MIX OVERPRICED PANCAKE YOU—_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_Hungry, rabbit?_

… Goshdangit.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_DON’T YOU DARE LAUGHING_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Already did since a few lines prior. Never thought I’d laugh so early._

I smile wryly, tapping his profile to look for a material I can use to get back on him.

 ** _anblacknight_** _Breakfast plus one that is my cousin_ **_@dialdfordiarmuid_**

 ** _dialdfordiarmuid_** **_@anblacknight_** _Aunt Grahnye’s smoked beef and chicken patties are OTHERWORLDLY_

 **_darkscion_ ** _Oh, peasants, you are so cute. Look at my Sevres porcelain **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _It’s alright Julie,  you have a porcelain, I have a family. To each their own **@darkscion**_

 **_darkscion_ ** _**@anblacknight** …….._

 **_thunderingwithpride @anblacknight_ ** _I think you broke him._

 **_anblacknight @thunderingwithpride_ ** _Have you tried duct tape? You’re an engineer._

Ares is still as merciless as always! But I’ve never seen Julius to be so taken aback if not against Seliph.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Omg if up to me I’d call that a party ^^ **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Don’t give my mom ideas Lene **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Is this Lene the dancer? :D **@dancedancerebellion** Gonna add if you don’t mind?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Yes! And sure ^^ **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Haha, would have thought it was you! It’s your blond warrior at your service Diarmuid. We met at Crusader’s Ward, remember me? I just don’t wanna randomly pop in **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Of course!! Hiii Diarmuid the public health expert~! **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _You’re not the only blonde who can fight, pervert **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Jesus fuck, Ares **@anblacknight** meow_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Fuck me up yourself, coward **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Ares, Diarmuid’s head  is not for kicking **@anblacknight @dialdfordiarmuid**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _… Noted. **@dancedancerebellion @dialdfordiarmuid** Oi, thank her, cabbage!_

 **_heyimnotaplant_ ** _**@anblacknight** purrs like a cat by the Queen’s command, huh >:) serves you right for oppressing business majors, brooding nerd_

 **_anblacknight @heyimnotaplant_ ** _Who is this hair-eating carcinogenic asbestos talking to me again?_

 **_heyimnotaplant @anblacknight_ ** _ARES_

 **_anblacknight @heyimnotaplant_ ** _WHAT?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _do not kick Leif’s ass or I kick you too **@anblacknight** :) **@heyimnotaplant**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _… As you wish. **@dancedancerebellion @heyimnotaplant** Thank her, bastard_

 **_heyimnotaplant_ ** _That’s not so nice to call your future cousin in-law my dude :3 **@anblacknight**_

 **_darkscion_ ** _> Crusader’s Ward HUEUEUEUE **@anblacknight @dialdfordiarmuid** How cute, like a matchbox where insects hide. I can crush that easily!! HAHAHAHAHAAA_

 **_friegish @darkscion_ ** _Not this again, Julius. I told you we’ll refill your Snickers stock._

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Hello beautiful SCARY wealthy lady **@friegish** can you spare some for Ares?_

 ** _thunderingwithpride_** _Thank you for the advice_ **_@anblacknight_** _, I applied the duct tape and turned it off before turning it on again. You are smart! But you are still no Saias._

W-what’s… going on my Instagram…

But now that everyone is here, this Saturday seems to be merrier and more fun than usual! Leaving the phone with Instagram diplomatic crises brewing here and there, I plug the charger and proceed to start my day. Rise and shine! And the girls are waiting!

Again, my closet appears to be more appealing to venture compared to prior…

… And Ares said I’m not a burden to text and reply. Then what if…

_Anyway Ares are you coaching today~?_

Sent.

_No because I train them after school. You?_

He did reply. I wish I did not notice he asked back, but I did.

_Yes! Then I’ll probably head out for a while…_

Why did I tell him? It’s not like it’s important or he cares.

_Diarmuid & I will train outside too._

Train. Again. He did say he trains often, but why? Is it simply because he likes sports too much? Based on his Instagram posts, he did do a collaboration short videos with Diarmuid here and there featuring what appeared to be heavy workouts. Body combat? Fitness? But the setting seemed to be modest like those were shot at a backyard or something. However, their trainings seem to be... more intense than what an aerobic session may give you.

The positive side, though—if he and Diarmuid are going to be at Crusader’s Ward, then perhaps I can finally catch up with them... him... to ask some questions about Coirpre. Of course, if he could praise—ahem, praise?—my cooking like that, he should know that his mother’s technically made the night merrier for my brother and I. And that way, I hope he sees that Coirpre is back in the mood and will improve at the field! I’m actually rather doubtful bringing up about Coirpre to him—I don’t want to pester him the way those persistent diehard parents haunt teachers around so their kids get the leverage they want. Considering he and I work at the same school, will that be… professional of us if I engage him to talk about Coirpre?  

But Coirpre is still my brother…

Hnnn. Perhaps I’m thinking too much about Ares as well. So what if he trains a lot and does sports often? Considering he loyally sticks with black color that it starts to fit in the criteria to be a meme, I won’t be surprised if he is devoted to the things he likes. What’s wrong with having a hobby?

Actually, yes, Ares, please have a hobby! That will make you a human! Imagine liking a demon…

—W-what did I just think?

* * *

 

No kidding, the day appears quite beautiful today! Somehow I feel so pumped. Perhaps this is what ecstatic feels like? For a moment there is no such a thing as unpaid bills or thinking what I should do so that my kitchen can run for another week.

I don’t even feel like grumbling when I open my closet! There is this beautiful sundress—a sleeveless camisole-type one with _again,_ floral motifs. With a white base color and small red vegetal and floral prints, those who know me too well will probably laugh at me for having predictable taste, but…

… But the dress is cute. And it is so lightweight too, which conveys how lively I feel today. And with the above-knee length it will be just perfect for me to move around since all I need to do will just put on some hot pants or training shorts as I’m coaching today. You can’t kill if you’re not cute! And I really need to wear the clothes I don’t wear often before my go-to start showing… defects. You know, those worn-out fabrics and washing machine stains? Gods, I just want to fucking get paid…

Alright, dress done. I’m about to grab my go-to lacey pink ribbon and style my hair in the typical ponytail I wear, but—gosh, my face! The hauls from sponsored products which I need to take photos of and review. I have used them, but I forgot to post! Hnnn.

Naturally, that is what I’m speeding up to do after I’m done with the sunscreen. And hey, the beautiful morning sun window… I remember something, so why not?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hellooo again Ares~! Look at this bright morning sun ^^ now we are even!_

I tap send. I hate to admit, but my girls are… right. I’ve been maintaining lines with Ares almost every day now, but admittedly sending messages to him back and forth is… fun…

… I wish I knew why this kind of fun is rather different than the kind of fun I feel when I exchange messages with them, though. I mean, of course I love them!! I told Ares we were practically sworn-sisters because of how close our friendship is! I cherish them and I shall, until I’m old and gray.

But there is the kind of fun that is just not… the same when I’m chatting Ares. There is also the kind of… throbbing feeling, meeting Ares again and again which I just don’t get when I’m with the girls.

So what the HELL is happening here? Ares does not do anything! I mean—Ares does not need to do anything other than being Ares to make me jump upside-down for experiencing all these thoughts and feelings I do not get to experience with other people so far. Of course Reinhardt is kind. Of course Leif is nice. Of course Seliph is _soft_ , mind you, but…

… But they are not Ares. Why, I feel shy to think of these things…

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Beautiful. Thank you kindly._

Oh, he replies. He has not left home yet as well?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You’re still home? :O_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I’m about to leave with Diarmuid._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Heheee I’m about to leave too! It’s like we sync, don’t you think~?_

Uh-ummm. Uh—

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Ah, do we?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Why do I have a feeling you’re like… smiling again?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Are you?_

Of course I’m not, duh. Why would I smile just because I got a reply from him?! Look, the sun is beautiful. And it’s just funny that Ares too has not left and actually is about to. And it’s also funny that I felt half-trollish half-serious to send him a photo of the sun back like he did. Kind of funny that I sent him a morning sun while he sent me a sunset, right? Like a pair?

… Pair?

I fiddle with my phone again. I should leave, right? His reply can come anytime, though.

… But exactly. Exactly because it can, so what am I even waiting for?!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Omg I forgot to crop myself out of that bright morning photo!! :OOO_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
It’s alright._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I actually wasn’t intending to send it to you! :O The sun was beautiful, and I remembered your sunset!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Is that so? Thank you._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You… ^^;;; is it truly alright to you because you never liked my photos so far, so…_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… I can’t._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
MY FACE GAVE YOU NIGHTMARES??_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
It is not like that, though._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OMG THEN DELETE THAT ONE IT’S OKAY_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
No._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Then I’ll just send you another one without me in it._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
It won’t be the same._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hnnn, hate to admit but you’re right! The best ones are the ones captured in that spur moment!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Besides, there is a halo._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… The video game? x))_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
The real one._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Around your hair…_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… The sunrays fell onto your face._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Oh. Visible? :O … My skin is not fair ^^;_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
And what of it?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I mean._

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Sun-kissed complexion. Sounds warm to me._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Lately you used that word often ^^_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Ah._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Heheheee. You can even brood virtually? Omg_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
But warmth is good. I feel alive._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ares? … :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I need to leave. Later, rabbit._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ahhh right!! Sorry for taking up your time! I need to leave too!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Don’t apologize._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Well, if I stalled you…_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_Worth it._

Worth it?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Oh, I understand. You must be a stranger to morning suns! You’re a demon anyway, so it is only reasonable for you to post a sunset. You don black, sweets make you miserable and you are really strong. You also have this beautiful pale skin with a death glare, until when are you going to pose as a human??_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Haha, probably._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
And you kept saying warm!! So… you’re not a lion demon but a vampire?? I read a horror book once that there is this kind of vampire who, instead of feeding on blood, craves warmth! From the sun to human body! But the tragic part is it became his demise because his body was made of ice!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Oh?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Everything makes sense now!! No wonder you do not die even if your mom cooks! :OO_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
But I am fit._

What? I’m just saying he is probably that kind of ice vampire! And… fit?

… Oh gods. D-dear gods. B-because that vampire is made of ice, s-supposedly he can’t—y-you know—

M-my face is _scorching_ RED now. AAAAAA—

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
ARES FUCKING HEZUL ALLEGED-HUMAN NORDION_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes? :)_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _SHUT UP YOUR FACE_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Good morning to you too._

I reeeallyyy want to roundhouse-kick him! I imagine he was smiling at his phone, looking at the photo I sent him with my face on it. How dare!

… Why, somehow I remember what Seliph said some time ago…

Ridiculous. Why would he be gazing at me like that? And like, I’m clothed! I mean—ahem, usually…

I should stop playing ‘usually’. It’s Ares. He is not ‘usually’. … But maybe that’s what makes him… endearingly different. Sigh, I should stop playing with my mind like this! It’s time to leave!

Heating a leftover cold peanut butter sandwich from last night, I walk in my toes to get to Coirpre’s room. The door does not even make a sound when I open it, and I find my little brother hugging one of his pillows on the bed, peacefully asleep in what looks like basketball sleeveless shirt. Aww, he looks so cute like that. I wonder what bothers him…

I’m tempted to pull the blanket off him to see if he still has some bruises or any other signs of injuries, but I’m afraid it will wake him up instead. Let’s see… before the weekend the soccer team had a practice. Perhaps he’s just exhausted?

I bend down to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. Coirpre makes some delirious sleepy sounds. I can hear him mumbling something akin to “Sis…” as he tosses and turns. Gently ruffling his hair, I kiss him again, fix his blanket and leave without a sound.

I don’t have the heart to suspect him of anything. It’s still disappointing that he did not want to bring my questionnaire for the team, but I guess I have no choice this time.

For the last time, I count my money, checking whether my ATM card is in my purse before I take the cold sandwich out of the microwave. Setting it onto a plate, I make a quick scribble on a paper.

_Coirpre, I’m out!~ Don’t skip breakfast, alright?_

If only I could take my own advice.

* * *

 

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Sorry for the late-ish update! So here’s the product haul I was sent to like, three days ago. I have to say, skin care-wise, this moisturizer is rather nice. It’s got nice relaxing minty aroma and cooling sensation when you apply it on your skin ^^ the eye cream is what I’m typically fond of; it does not give you the puffy feels like many other products tend to do to sensitive skin, and it does feel energizing especially if you’ve been out under the sun for a while of feeling like your under-eyes are dry due to air conditioner or being in front of a computer for too long. The face-kit, I’m not really feeling it, sorry! The foundation and concealer will only work well if you have fair skin, which I don’t. Sadly, said brand does not offer more options when it comes to skin tone variations, so if your shade is like mine or darker, you may want to look for other, cheaper alternatives. That’s it for today! Full product list follows. Swipe for more pictures! Remember, apply some on your hand first before it goes to your face. XOXO!_

Phew, typing those curl up my fingers! But I’ve been busy with school that I almost, almost forgot to post the review. People sent me these products for me to try and review because they say I’m honest in my posts, so maintaining their trust is important if I want to keep these clients coming!

I just finished drilling them some workouts. After various squats and leg exercises to build up that flexibility and cardiovascular endurance, the girls are unwinding at the bench, sipping some water or enjoying the breeze. To tell you the truth, if it is up to me I do not want to burden them this far—after all, they are just kids! But even if I tone down all the typical routines professional cheerleaders usually have, they are cheering, and it’s better to build them up rather than having them getting muscle cramps or being too exhausted at the field. After all, this is summer, and we’ll all need some extra endurance as the game will be played in an open field during the day.

Seeing them so happy and starting to be confident of their capability brings me joy as well. Now now, if only I’ve got something nice to eat too. I spared that sandwich for Coirpre…

 **_amalduh_ ** _Oooh the eye cream sounds nice. Rather pricey however. Alternatives? **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Check your DM ;D **@amalduh**_

 **_righteously_ ** _You shop drugstore? Wow, I really wouldn’t have thought **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I don’t have much money, Olwen **@righteously** and many dupes are reliable too!_

 **_friegish_ ** _… Those sets are… that expensive? **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Some of us are poor, Ishtar :)))) **@friegish**_

Inhale, exhale, inhale… remember, she does not mean malice… inhale again… she’s just too rich that she does not realize how crazily rich she actually is… inhale again…

 **_notmaybelline_ ** _Geez how do I know you are so *honest* as you said you were **@dancedancerebellion** you were paid to do this and they sent you samples._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I just called them out for only having shades for fair skin! **@notmaybelline**_

 **_blegh_ ** _Lol what if it’s not about the product, it’s just she can’t use it **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_queenbee_ ** _Poor she said. Yet she landed makeup gig. Hey **@dancedancerebellion** how many concealers did you eat until you got there? Maybe if you set your priority straight you won’t starve. _

Yeah, maybe I know those dupes and drugstore unfamiliar brands because they are sold cheap and often handed out as giveaways when purchasing daily care products. Maybe because I happen to be lucky like any so-called Instagram models with a lot of cash to buy clothes and then being asked to model or act as a brand ambassador after their selfies gain traction. Maybe because of how meticulous I am that I can save to buy myself something nice once in a while in like… months, and probably a year or two after everyone else started using them. Maybe because I’m one of those shoppers of doom who conquered stores during seasonal promos such as Black Friday or year-end sales. Maybe…

 **_dancedancerebellion @queenbee_ ** _I skipped breakfasts so my brother could eat, the hell you know, Meng?_

… Close the Instagram, Lene. Close it. Let them speak. At least it’s good that they’re never hungry…

 **_queenbee_ ** _You’d expect me to buy another  #dietspo story from a dancer? **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_blegh_ ** _#Dietspo what she buys fastfoods often lol **@dancedancerebellion @queenbee**_

 **_dancedancerebellion @blegh_ ** _Because they are cheap and nearing closing time yields you more!_

 **_notmaybelline_ ** _**@dancedancerebellion** Then how must IG netizens trust you lol you don’t even eat clean._

Coirpre’s burgers. McNuggets. Two-for-one pizzas. Taco Bell boxes. I—

I inhale again. Beautiful day, fulfilling morning, beautiful park…

_Sis I finished the sandwich :O_

Text from Coirpre…

_Oooh good!~_

Those recipes my besties shared with me. Deep-fried katsu which I’m certain he will like, regardless of what so-called healthy-eating folks think of them. And those cutlets sure will be filling…

_There was only one plate there though :OO_

_I’ve eaten my share and washed it before you woke up, lazy boy!_

He shouldn’t know.

_Can we order again tonight?_

… No, Coirpre. No. Actually, we _can’t._

_I’m doing groceries!_

_Ooo, forreal??_

_Why, miss your coach? :P_

I could not… type a ‘yes’. So...

_Oookay :( I should start doing the science project…_

_Then do it instead of surfing the web!_

… This feels cheating because I don’t want him to be on Instagram. Then he won’t see those comments…

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Didn’t kick his head._

Direct message from Ares? Huh… oh, he and Diarmuid are indeed outside. Haha, he’s glaring, watching Diarmuid doing sit-ups apparently...

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Crusader’s Ward?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes. He’s got a membership._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You don’t?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
No. Don’t feel like wasting money for the things I can do on my own._

So we are… close then. I-I mean. He is nearby, with Diarmuid.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Look Ares the park is beautiful too today! Coincidence? ^^_

Beautiful day… beautiful park… I should let go. The anger and sadness are not worth it. Besides, it’s not like they’ll magically wake up to see that I have nothing to hide or deceive…

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _At the park?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Yes, with the girls from Thracia!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Ah, we are close then._

We are. If I cross this park to the opposite side just like the other day, I’ll easily arrive there.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I should have posted this sooner, look at the park glowing! Today is exceptionally beautiful, it’s like the world SHINES wherever I go. The world is precious, isn’t it? ^^_

 **_pheeew_ ** _**@dancedancerebellion** Nice dress!! _

**_larceiheyhey @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Agreed! Looks so comfy you can kill a man in it._

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _**@dancedancerebellion** Your smile is contagious, I feel like smiling too ^^_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Thank you!! You guys are the best! ^O^ **@pheeew @larceiheyhey @nunsfighttoo**_

That cheered me up a little bit…

 ** _queenbee_** _Now smiling for pathos **@dancedancerebellion**_

So what am I supposed to do? I can’t be sad, but I can’t be happy either. I can’t look like I have food or I’m faking being poor, but actually working to earn that money is laughable. Sigh.

 **_pheeew_ ** _Hey asshats what is it with you trio shitting on **@dancedancerebellion** all the time?! Damn let a girl live! Her brother is my brother’s schoolmate, she’s not lying you prick! **@blegh @queenbee**_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _Listen I usually don’t care but stop this **@notmaybelline.** Lene may have a temper but you bet her fuse burns slow, and let’s not make it until she can’t hold it any longer, got me?_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _Please be kinder, people are struggling… **@notmaybelline @queenbee @blegh**_

 **_queenbee_ ** _Oh so now we got pursued & ambushed huh **@pheeew**_

 **_pheeew_ ** _As if you don’t gang up in a triangle attack all the time! **@queenbee @blegh @notmaybelline**_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _Hey **@friegish** collect your trash, save the environment!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _… Guys… TToTT I’m so… **@nunsfighttoo @larceiheyhey @pheeew**_

“Coach Bragi?”

“Ah—yes?” I quickly return my phone to my purse. The girls are looking at me like a group of curious kittens from the bench we are sitting at. I shift my body language at an instant—gone are traces of frowning or nearly getting teary-eyed because my best friends reacted strongly to the insults I got. I have hoped for forever that all these things wouldn’t come into their attention, but…

“Oh, nothing! You look a bit brooding so we are concerned,” Karin shakes her head sympathetically. “If you maintain such eyebrows for more than five minutes, you’ll rival Coach Nordion.”

That practically earns cheerful laughter from everyone else. I suppose I must have looked so… disturbed that it affected people as well… “He’s got no rival in that,” I chuckle along, now a bit curious as to how Ares typically handles his sessions. Kind of tempting to show up to pick up Coirpre and spy on him at the same time. Multitask, you know? And if he does like mango pudding that much, then…

T-then what? Bringing him some more? But perhaps it’s a noble quest so the older lion does not have to… errr, lock joints with his cub over my pudding. And the lioness can get more slices. Haha, I’m worrying too much. Besides it’s not like I’m secretly seeking for Grahnye Nordion’s blessing or anything.

… Hold on, blessing in WHAT again?

 “This feels good,” Karin laughs, drinking her yuzu orange refreshments. “And this one smells really nice.”

“I like this workout,” Miranda smiles as well. “I feel fit. Who knows, I might as well pick up martial arts.”

“You are already scary,” Karin giggles. “But it will be cool if you do!”

I smirk, imagining Little Fee playfully poking Little Larcei to make the latter embarrassed. “Actually, yes, do it if it’s what you like, Miranda!” I cheer for her. Being able to inspire people feels great! Like there is this warmth in my chest even though I can’t fight myself. “Killer fists are just bonus.”

“Y-yes, I, too… don’t tire easily…” Sara interrupts with her small voice. “Now I can walk faster and longer without running out of breath… back then it had to be frustrating for Tinny to walk with me…”

“Awww, don’t say that!” Tinny quickly encircles her arm over Sara’s shoulders. “You might be slow, but it’s not like you won’t get there or anything. We’re a squad. We do not abandon each other.”

“My thoughts exactly!” Karin nods firmly. “So, what are we going to do next, Coach Bragi?”

“Back then we drilled to shape our bodies—your flexibility, adaptability and all the choreography plan we shall be incorporating into your dances. Now I’ve selected the song,” I say, facing the girls I coach as they obediently sit on the same park bench to take my lessons. “Your school and team motto already fill a slot. I bring this clip I’d like to propose to you to use, and if you like it, I’ll submit it to the school!”

“Are we going to personally yell the motto ourselves?” Tinny asks.

“Do we have to… like… sing?” Miranda follows up, looking so awkwardly horrified.

“Yes!” I convey my answer with a smile. “I’ll train your vocal so you don’t tire easily! After all, cheering does not only mean spectacularly moving around while looking cute at the same time. Of course, though, you will be,” this time I wink at them. “We’d want to keep your team pumped up! And I’m so excited to have you, a small team, _drown_ your rivals because of how dazzling you will be.”

“Sounds like a hard task,” Miranda mumbles. “I’m not cute. I can’t sing, Coach. I _shout_.”

“Sounds like you already have a good start, Miranda!” I pat her back reassuringly. She immediately tilts her head at me, waiting in anticipation while blushing at the same time. Gods, now I fear this girl is bullied in class or something. She looks so utterly taken aback each time I said nice things about her or that she too could be cute like the rest of the girls!

“I… really?”

“If you can shout, sounds like you have strong vocal chords. Shout at me!”

“Shout… what?”

“Anything!” I reassure her again. “What do you usually do?”

“Shouting at the boys for always leaving their props scattered,” she responds.

“Then do it! I’d like to see you going natural,” I smile at her. “Don’t worry, Miranda. All of them are your friends. I am your friend too, and I’m not here to laugh at you.”

She fidgets. I lightly tap her hands.

“Okay then,” she finally says. “OI PICK UP YOUR OWN TRASH OR I DECAPITATE YOU, ASSHOLES!!”

W-wow. Such energy… Larcei will like her for sure.

“T-there you go, Coach,” she retreats, looking embarrassed. But from the bench, the rest of the girls are sincerely clapping their hands. Hnnn, I love this small team!

“That’s so powerful! I can’t imagine doing that,” Sara mutters with her soft voice.

“Yeah! If it was up to me, I’d fall into oblivion by laughing along with them,” Karin nods.

“Ummm,” Miranda bashfully looks away, “t-thanks, I guess.”

“Heheee, see, Miranda?” I chuckle along. “Now we’ll just improve how you breathe and how you hold on so that one can sound like a tune. De-ca-pi-taaa-teee yooouuu aaaasholeees!”

“When sung, it’s scarier but beautiful,” Sara remarks innocently.

“Alright, alright, let’s start!” Karin bobs her head enthusiastically.

“You see, considering you are going to empower your team, I’m thinking of something to lift your spirits up too,” I take out my phone out of my purse. “I love this song because it helps me going through hard times when I feel like giving up. People often think being a supporting unit that we are, dancers are all bubbly and can’t get sad! While it is untrue, the most important thing when you are cheering up another is that you need to contain your own feelings for a while…”

Maybe I shouldn’t say that. The girls shouldn’t know the hard life of a dancer. They are not me. And I pray that they do not need to perform to a crowd—or person—they do not like. Like disgusting men. Like a crowd of… unpaid bills. Ugh, suddenly my stomach feels knotted…

“Well, well,” I clear my throat, quickly changing the tone so I don’t sound so… miserable. “Not many people are aware of this, but we are masters too, you know~? When I said containing your feelings, it does not mean that you are not allowed to be sad. It’s taking control of yourself!”

“Admittedly, people think dancers and cheerleaders are vapid,” Sara mutters.

“Wow, you know big words,” impressed, Karin beams at her.

“No,” I shake my head, perhaps stronger than I intended. “How come a sportsman’s rage at the field has so many chances to be validated while our professionalism is doomed?”

“Oh,” Miranda mumbles again.

“Right? What will they say when one of the boys charges full-speed after some heckler provokes him? After an opposing team member accidentally elbows him or something?” I continue, feeling my spirit soar too. “If you show emotions, they’ll call you unfit. If you don’t—you’re fake. I have a word for that.”

“W-which is?” Sara responds, her eyes widened.

“Professionalism!” I wink at them with a smile. “To be able to do your job—cheering by being the source of consolation and embodying the spirit of sportsmanship regardless of how you feel. And look at us. We train hard too. We run. We stretch and flex our muscles. We are strong too, my girls.”

“That’s what Ced says,” Tinny mutters, looking so contended.

“That’s what Coach Nordion says too,” what Miranda said immediately bazookas me in the feels.

“Ares—Coach Nordion—told you that?”

Miranda nods. “One time he got the boys to make a room at the field for us.”

“One of them lingered around to bully us. Almost got into some verbal confrontation with Ced,” Tinny pokes Miranda like she just remembered something important. “And then that one got disciplined. He kept telling the boys we would be sharing the field, so they best not act like little _shits_ behaving like some sort of almighty _doofus_ who runs the world.”

“G-gods. Alright, that sounds like Ares.”

“Language, Coach,” Tinny goes on, “or as what Ced told him. He apologized. And said _fucking_ thank you.”

“Really? He sounds… ni—ahem, understanding. That’s a good thing that he warned the boys beforehand because the next time we indeed will be practicing at the field! That is why I want to get you adapting to the songs today,” I quickly retract. I don’t want to sound so… fangirlish.

W-well! Who is a fan of Ares anyway?!

“So, is that our theme for the season then?” Karin grins. “Girl power?”

“I can totally run with it,” Miranda’s face lights up.

“But I am shy…” everyone tilts their heads when they hear Sara’s soft voice again.

“What are you talking about? You keep coming here and never once you skip,” I respond to the silvery purple-haired girl with a cheery tone. “Everyone has their own characteristics. Miranda bursts powerful moves. Karin has bouncy steps like eternal fire. And Tinny has that softness as if she does not sweat a muscle when she hops. And you, Sara, your moves are seamless like an elf.”

“Right, right! Come to think of it, she is the most graceful of us all!” Karin laughs, patting Sara in the back—too enthusiastic perhaps—until the girl almost chokes.

“Exactly! You are all different, but isn’t that what makes this small team cohesive and unique?” I nod. They look so pleased to hear that! Boy, now I wonder what lies they have accustomed to hear. See, if you do not know something… someone… then there is a chance you’ll end up hating them. So what if one girl is quiet while the other vivacious? Doesn’t mean they can’t be friends!

They circle me when I take out my phone. Boa Kwon’s _Girls on Top_ has been helping me a lot each time I feel like giving up or when unsavory comments on Instagram start to get to me.

 _This is who I am, so I just wanna be true to myself_  
_That's just the way I like it, don't wanna be somebody else_  
_If you could understand why it's never enough  
_ _I'm gonna make it happen, who says there can't be girls on top_

It’s so nice to see the girls’ expression lighting up as the song begins to faintly play. I like that song, and it will be great if they do so as well. “It will be funny if this song gets picked up too, Coach Bragi, because it’s like everyone agrees this season’s theme is empowerment,” Sara speaks after some time.

“And chances are we are reusing _Battlefield_ by Jordin Sparks again this season because the principal thinks _Fighter_ by Christina Aguilera is too old for us,” Tinny continues.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” I smile again. “Fierceness is good! But don’t forget that you are also kids and girls who deserve fun and all the kindness in the world. If this song gets accepted, probably I can cut the end lines supposed your teachers are wary of anything that may sound… too old for you.”

“This ‘yes baby, yes baby’ part?” Miranda grins. “Boy, can’t wait to be a high school student.”

“As an adult… sort-of, I assure you, take your time and enjoy,” I laugh. “Your _Battlefield_ can act as an opening. This one for a half-time because I can cut that so-called grown-up part to fit the break time. Then we’ll need a cool down theme when the match ends, so… _The Climb_ by Miley Cyrus?”

“I want _Me Against the Music_ by Britney Spears,” Miranda blurts.

“Some vehement teachers will need to be hospitalized,” Karin giggles.

“Then _Toxic_ ,” Miranda speaks again.

“Miranda, we are not going to murder our teachers,” Tinny states calmly.

“Hufff. Fine,” Miranda makes a fake pout and withdraws. “Next time we’re not going to be outdoor, or so I heard, Coach Bragi?”

“Yes. We’ll be at the field with the boys. But we can rehearse first with music if you can secure an empty class room,” I bite my lips, contemplating how to arrange it. “I’ll talk to Ares—Coach Nordion for the synergy. Well, if he can help us making a room by arranging the desks, will be nice.”

“Let’s get the boys do that,” Miranda smirks _devilishly._ “After all, they’ll need to start getting used with us and our performance there. Like this battlefield rear line where you know you have medics!”

“Wow, that’s a creative… imagination,” I don’t know what to say. First of all, I’d say cheerleaders are like auxiliary team. And all eyes are going to be on us while leering at the medics is prickish by default. “Anyway, Coach N is nearby. I think we can have a little chat so things will be smoother and easier when Monday comes!”

“Really? Is he?” Sara speaks. “Are we heading to Crusader’s Ward?”

“We are. We’ll walk there shortly. Are you overwhelmed?” I take a good look at Sara, half-anxious that the session we just had overworked her. Well, she doesn’t appear to be troubled, and now she nods.

“I’m doing better thanks to your exercises!”

… How can I say no… sobs…

We circle the park with all the laughter and smiles on our faces. Sometimes we slow down so that Sara can catch up with us. She looks pink under the sun, so I quickly take out my umbrella to shield her. And before I know it, all the girls have banded together under the umbrella, crowding Sara who initially looked embarrassed because she is the only one being shielded and looking like she’s only an inch closer from suffering heat wave.

I love this day. I love this positive energy and spirit I’m surrounded with. There is no hatred, there is no hunger… okay, more like I _forget_ that I’m actually hungry. The girls lock arms with each other, with Miranda and Karin slinging their arms over each of Sara’s shoulders. This probably feels like Mary Poppins or even the governess Maria from _The Sound of Music_ because they are practically tailing me, humming some lines from _Girls on Top_ I introduced them some minutes prior. Miranda makes few more attempts to flex her vocal chords, drawing it smoother that it results in a nice string of vocalization instead of the staccato shouting she said she wasn’t confident about.

Today is beautiful. Truly beautiful. Now if only it’s like this everyday…

 _Open up your mind, we can make it work if we take the time_  
_To realize we're all the same inside_  
_You can't judge me by the way that I look on the exterior, no  
_ _I just can't take it anymore_

They are clapping, throwing their hands above them enthusiastically as they keep walking with me. Glancing at the girls who seem to be in a friendship slash picnic mood, suddenly new choreography ideas pop out in my mind. Right, right, I’ll try it at home and probably the sports hall for later! But what’s supposed to be girl power can have a touch of friendship in it, and I can have the girls to band together displaying the image of a solid powerful squad instead of doing a tower as cheerleaders typically do! And this is for sportsmanship too, so… message of unity and peace is good, right?

Why, suddenly I feel so contended!

“Right, right! We can twist and turn like this…” I hold up the umbrella higher as I make an example. “And then Sara can be on the center doing lower-body maneuvers so the dances will not burn you out. I think it will be great if there are some minutes of you showing off your individual characters which we can alter with coordinated uniform moves here and there!”

“Wow, the next session has not started yet but here you are, already planning,” Karin enthusiastically nudges me. “What kind of individuality?”

“Free-styling! If you like hard beat, Miranda, give me something active. If you like it graceful, Sara, then do a twist in the center. Anything! If you feel like somersaulting in front of Sara, Karin, you can… no, actually, yes, do it. You can do that from one end to an end and Tinny can cartwheel from the opposite side, so she starts from where you finish!” I think my eyes must be sparkling right now, but I truly, truly don’t care. Their enthusiasm is so… warm and inviting me to put my own two-hundred percent into this!

“Can I make a kick or something?” Miranda _grins_ like no other.

“Yes!” I bob my head quickly, returning her mischievous evil look with a similar smile. “And then you can all gather in the center to end it with… you know what, I think you all can give Sara a hug.”

“Ooooh!” they beam at me.

“And I can hug you back!” Sara exclaims with pure, pure joy. “I’ve got looong arms, you know? And I like hugs! My grandfather doesn’t even care to hug me…”

“Awh. Come to me anytime to get a hug,” I really kind of want to snot into a ply of tissue, but I’m the coach. I’m supposed to be the adult—alright, the older sister for these girls, so I have to satisfy myself settling by averting my eyes from hers for a second.

“And from us!” the rest of the girls drown Sara in a bundle of blissful, warm friendly bear hug.

“I-is this what we’re doing?” she mutters, with bright, bright twinkle in her eyes. “And each time we practice until the game, I’ll get to get the hugs and hug you back?”

“Sure! Aren’t we your friends?” Tinny giggles, ruffling Sara’s beautiful hair warmly.

“Oh, look, Crusader’s Ward…” my eyes caught the gym. We’re so close, and just by three-four steps ahead, we will be inside. But I instantly lose my voice upon catching a familiar figure exiting the gym, casually slinging his familiar black backpack over his shoulder.

… It’s Ares.

He is looking from his shoulders, probably waiting on Diarmuid to catch up with him. He wears what appears to be a comfortable, body-hugging light gray shirt over a pair of equally comfortable-looking black chino pants. … It’s so Ares, somehow—practical, pragmatic, as I’ve seen many people buying that kind of fabric when they are about to have a long travel as it is comfortable and does not wrinkle easily. Back then Larcei said the hardest part for her is that many of those are often designed for men, because she likes them for being moist-resistant that she can rock without problem after working out.

And again, his sporty sneakers carry his long strands without making any noise.

… I shouldn’t probably look at Ares while keep walking like a hypnotized person, but somehow…

“Wait for me!” I nearly startle when Diarmuid runs from the studio.

“Slowpoke,” I can hear Ares taunting him, probably with a half smirk he does not bother to conceal.

“If I defeat you, I’ll make you eat my mom’s sugar donuts. Then I’ll treat you deathly sweet parfaits.”

“If.”

“Oi, Ares. Just because you threw me down three times today doesn’t mean I’ve got no chance.”

“And where was it when I unbalanced you?” Ares smirks, pushing the door for them both. And…

I—don’t know if the sun… or perhaps... stars—can enter the building or something. Perhaps I should not skip food every so often and getting too energetic while coaching because… I don’t know, suddenly I feel like something hammers me in the head… or perhaps somewhere else… I don’t know for sure, but all I can be sure of is that the collision… strike… whatever it was hit me where it hurt.

And suddenly the sun appears… strong. I feel dizzy. Am I going to fall or…

… I hear someone shouting. And there are others calling my name…

“Umm—ah—!” I let out a squeal out of reflex when I feel my body being lifted off the ground. I don’t want this but somehow I’m feeling rather… weak to resist. Hnnn, perhaps skipping meals finally takes a toll on me…

I’m not sure who picked me up although I can attest the strength. It’s like he does not break a sweat when sweeping me off the ground like that. One hand rests under my shoulders while another is respectfully positioned against the back of my knees to keep me in place. I know it’s a he—the girls were crowding behind me when it happened, under my umbrella.

Strands of blond hair swirl around me. … Diarmuid? But Diarmuid was still behind by the time we approached Crusader’s Ward. S-so that means…

“Lene?”

Why, have I landed somewhere else yet? B-but… no. No. I’m still in his embrace. He keeps holding me, so steady and firm like neither my weight nor my body in its entirety bothers him. Maybe I’m not much of a challenge. Or have I been losing weight pretty drastically now that I skipped meals lately out of fear of not having money to spare for Coirpre…?

I slowly open my eyes. And I quickly get treated to a pair of sharp, fierce-looking copper eyes keenly looking into mine. Like he observes me—observes my everything. From the way I breathe, the way my eyelids start moving, everything.

“Ah… Ares…?”

That may have sounded like… mumbling. But how can I not? He keeps holding me. He does not let go, not even setting me on the floor or the random sofa near the reception desk inside Crusader’s Ward’s lobby. I’m not that tall—I should fit in that sofa if he is just going to tilt my head a little bit. Yet here we are—him holding me tightly like I’m some sort of a bride.

… Or… a disaster victim. Right? … Why would I be… a bride? I’m not so cute. Not _that_ cute…

I wonder why I feel so melancholic like this. All these thoughts are… incoherent somewhat. But strangely, I don’t want to let go either.

“Yes. It is me.”

His voice comes off like a murmur. Is he truly… panicked? Like anxiously-panicked?

They said Ares is dubbed as the Black Knight. Mighty, ferocious Black Knight who finishes every fight he is invited to, the scary Black Knight whom even student athletes and frat boys hesitate to touch. Supposedly so, allegedly so. The lion demon who tore the night with a commanding death glare, making a knife-wielding mugger paled like no other.

… Then why do his touches… feel comforting? Like there is this utmost gentleness which comes with them; the way he tightly holds me, yet none of his body’s footprints against my skin has landed a hurting mark. If he is so… fiery, then how come he feels so… soft and tender like this too? H-how…

“Lene?”

“Ares, I… what… happened?”

“You blackout. Probably a minute or two,” he answers, inhaling. “When I turned around to open the door, you were right in front of me. I did not see you because I was waiting on Diarmuid to catch up. It seems you slammed hard against my shoulders and then the door.”

“… Ah? So that’s why I felt a… strike?” I hold up my hand. However before I can rub my face, Ares leans deeper, examining me. W-why, his face is… s-so… close… and h-he smells nice too…

“Where?”

… That murmur again. But his eyebrows knit. Is he... angry?

“U-ummm… I’m… sorry…”

“No. Don’t.”

“Uh… Ares…”

“Not now, Lene.”

No ‘rabbit’. And I suddenly kind of miss getting called such. Is he angry? Do I only invite… trouble?

Ares does not say anything. He is still carrying me, like totally undisturbed by the weight lying against his arms. From the corner of my eyes I see Diarmuid rushing to follow his long strands, and my girls tail behind him. Sara cups her mouth like she is about to cry. Miranda is practically _hot_ on her toes trying to race Ares, while Tinny keeps calling my name as Karin tugs on Ares’ backpack.

And then suddenly Ares shifts his position. The sofa at the lobby is now behind us, so I prepare myself if he is going to drop me there.

… Or so I thought.

Ares shifts. And crouches. And seats himself on that sofa, laying me down next. I’m horizontally seated in his lap, with his chest shielding me as his left arm encircles me. He gently takes off his right one from under the back of my knees.

“I beg your pardon,” he murmurs again. Before I know it that hand smoothly flies into my direction, gently tilting my chin so that I’m looking at him. He leans closer again, and I—don’t know, I’m supposedly… injured or something, b-but why I feel… heated instead? There’s this surge of—warmth rising from under my chest. Or probably even deeper than that. My stomach, perhaps—

… I should tell Ares where it hurts, but I get… tongue-tied. I can only look at him, looking at him in a manner like I’m a lost traveler begging for some water because—

… His touches feel warm. And healing. And somehow I—crave—more. Does this mean I’m hurt more than I thought I was? And why is he pausing, looking into my eyes like that? Am I troubling him? Why did he not just… drop me on that sofa and be done with me? Okay, probably after scolding me for being so careless since… I was technically looking at him even knowing he was approaching the door. The girls were bundled together under my umbrella; I was the first to notice he was inside. To be fair, the glass door made everything rather dark when being viewed from the outside. B-but… still… supposedly… allegedly… I knew he was there. After all, I’ve been texting him and everything…

“It’s—it’s okay,” I whisper. He is still touching me; our eyes meet again, and only then he quickly retracts, withdrawing his hand off my face.

“Your nose bridge and forehead may bruise after this,” he murmurs again.

“Ah—that… that will heal,” I reflexively touch the parts he mentioned.

And he stops me. He takes my wrist; his hand being bigger than mine enveloping my fingers in what feels like a… protective clasp. “I am sorry,” he says, voice is so husky and regretful as if he was the one who had accidentally hit me.

“I’m alright,” I smile at him. “Marks will disappear.”

I want to get up, yet he pulls me in. It’s almost like he is so close to actually _bow_ and kiss my hand like some old-age honorable knight, and I’ve got this odd feeling that he would have _knelt_ if only I’d say it. “… Such warmth,” he mumbles. “… And I ruined it.”

H-huh…?

“I should have reacted better the moment I thought I saw you,” he mutters again.

“It’s like misfortune happens when I’m around—perhaps our stars collide?” I respond sheepishly. “And uhhh—normally I won’t say this, but—eh, you are tall. So it’s actually… normal that you did not see me.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Knowing I’m taller should have made me more mindful of you.”

… He owns up to everything just like that…

Even though technically I shouldn’t be… peeping on him. Just because he looked nice after gym?

… Looked nice? Ares? I mean—did I just… ridiculously harm myself because of… the sight of him?

“It’s—alright,” I whisper to him. “Mmm—why, Ares, I shouldn’t be in the way like that next time! I should have been more careful. I thought I saw you inside, and…”

And then what? And I went blank because those pants work well on him? Because that shirt does wonder to accentuate—well, his bod?

It’s like only then reality is back to hit me with an anvil. “And uhhh-AAAAHHH—I’m s-sorry! I really did not mean to be a creep!! I wasn’t even stalking you or anything, I—swear, I—“

“Lene.”

“Ares, I—gods,” running out of words, I bring my hands to cover my face. I can’t look at him like this. Not in this predicament. Not when I’m like this. Not when—

“Rabbit?”

That nickname. … I can’t believe there will be a time when I’m half-dying to hear that from him again.

“Y-yes,” whispering, I slowly bring my hands down half my face, exposing only my eyes—my shy, shy eyes meeting his. “W-what is it, l-lion demon?”

“It is alright,” he chuckles a little, gently planting his own hand against my wrists to bring my hands down further. But I don’t—want to. I can’t. And I wish he’d stop looking at me so tenderly like that because I might—melt. Strange enough, at the same time I wish he would… _not._ “You think I’m angry?”

I can only give him a small nod.

“Did you not read my text?” he asks again.

And again, I nod.

“Then I am not,” he smiles this time. “So please.”

“Mm-hmmm,” I shake my head, still holding on despite his coaxing touch to bring my hands down. Why, I feel so shy like this. W-why—

He sighs. “I really am not angry. More than anything, I’m afraid.”

Afraid? This alleged non-human blonde is… afraid? Where was it when he jumped off the second floor when he was late? Where was such sentiment when two muggers—with one wielding a switch blade—cornered him in the middle of nowhere that night? Where was it when he casually texted me while queuing at a drive-thru for his mom’s cheeseburgers?

“You are… afraid?” I respond with muffled voice because my hands are still half-way my face.

“I can’t hear you clearly if you cover your mouth like that,” he spares a kind smile.

“… Mmm,” I mumble again, nodding as I slowly take my hands off my face with my legs mooring sideways, closer to my chest. W-why am I like this. What is happening…

“Now that is better,” he chuckles lightly. “Those may bruise when you wake up tomorrow, so…” he raises his thumb, running it in a circular movement over the hurting parts. Yes, that actually helps relieving the throbbing pain. And it feels… comforting.

“You were afraid, you said,” I try again.

“Of course. Of hurting you. ... Of you getting hurt," his deadpanned mannerism is back, and yet… “Better?”

I nod. “You know how to treat bruises?”

 “… I got hit a lot,” he answers, looking away. There’s subtle trace of sadness shadowing his eyes as he speaks. “And back then it happened often. To survive, I had to know how.”

Survive. Getting hit. And—ring. Fights. What and who actually is Ares?

 “… You fought a lot?”

“I never started any,” he replies with a firm tone. “But they kept coming…”

“You must have been… hurt a lot,” I whisper to him.

“At first,” he simply shakes his head. “But then I got used to it.”

“Then I’m not hurt—badly,” I follow suit, shaking my head. Shifting to a more cheerful tone, I smile at him while my fingers insolently poke him in the ribs. “So you don’t actually like fighting, yet you argued against those perverts on my account and even challenged one to fight you at Jugdral-U’s parking lot.”

He looks at me. And finally, I get my response. “You are my exception.”

His tone is firmer compared to prior…

“But why?” I can’t resist to ask, because… why? Why does he bother this much, this further?

“… I don’t know,” he shrugs. “What you think as special is just normal for me. I mean, isn’t this what a capable person is supposed to do? And there you are, proudly facing everything alone with a smile.”

He pauses. But not for too long because his eyes slowly light up as he continues speaking.

“… Again and again as the next day comes.”

Oh, Ares!

I tug on his hem. He looks surprised, but not rejecting me. Come to think of it, never once he evades when I touch him. Even if solely to yank his hair or punch his nose (w-well…) during our banters.

… Strangely, at the same time I’m not even sure if I’m interested to know the answer. Like I feel it is no longer important at this point; the Ares I’ve come to know is decent. The Ares that is out of my radar also appears kind and helpful. I really am… confused. But at the same time I feel warm…

I tug on him—deeper. And perhaps I need more—power to get him leaning in closer because he is sturdy. His shoulders were, considering they just sent me flying like that. At this rate if I kept going, there would be a chance for his nose to bump against mine. I—mean…

“Aahhh, Coach Nordion!! H-hold on, I got this!”

That shriek startle us both, and I let him loose as he tilts around out of reflex. Sara runs to get to us; her beautiful hair swaying back and forth while Diarmuid looks ready to _leap_ and carry Sara himself with a dreadful expression on his face.

“Oi, kid! Wait! You already tumbled two times in the span of ten meters, darn, let me do it!”

“I—I can do it, thank you! W-waaa~h!” she shrieks again, tumbling on her own steps that she almost, almost landed flatly against the flower vase decoration near the lobby sofa if Ares did not catch her first. The alleged lion demon holds her waist so she did not fall. Thank God, otherwise she might end up with some nosebleed or worse if that vase broke!

“Yes, young miss?”

“T-the ice,” Sara proudly hands an ice pack to Ares. “For Coach Bragi.”

“Aww, Sara, you really shouldn’t have,” I squeeze her arm, feeling so touched. She is shy—and rather frail—yet she risked herself running to get me that? If Diarmuid looked worried, then it was worrying.

“But you—you shielded me from heat wave with your umbrella,” Sara fidgets with her shirt. “You gave it for us four and even held it for us. That… was the reason why you slammed face-first against Coach Nordion’s shoulders, right?”

“… Ah, so how it goes,” Ares sighs, now looking at me.

“Ummm,” I grin awkwardly.

“Oooh gosh. Can’t believe Sara outran us all,” Miranda arrives, panting with slumping head. Behind her, Karin and Tinny line up, looking similarly tired if not doubly-devastated. “Gods, Coach Bragi! D-don’t be so careless like that! W-we thought you wouldn’t wake up!”

“Huh?”

“Yes! The moment you tumbled with closed eyes I thought I’d die!” Karin chirps.

“Are you really alright?” Tinny squeezes my hands. “Is she going to be, Coach N?”

“I will make sure of it,” Ares replies firmly, as if he’s ready to fistfight himself when he stated it.

“If something happens to you, I’m going t-to be so sad,” Miranda bawls her eyes out now, hugging me, not even caring anything that I’m practically still being in Ares’ embrace. “N-nobody ever said those things like you did to me before. Nobody. S-seriously, I wouldn’t even dance i-if not b-because of you…”

“I’ll be careful next time,” my voice must have been so coarse like a toad now. “I’m sorry, girls.”

“And that moment you looked so pale. Have you… had food, Coach?” Sara looks at me again with investigating eyes. She is probably clairvoyant…

“I was the one getting enthusiastic when I saw you, Coach N,” Miranda turns her attention on Ares. “See, we actually like what Coach Bragi proposed for the dances. There would be free-styling, so considering you coach soccer, maybe you can teach me how to… kick?”

“Kick?” Ares cocks an eyebrow.

“My suggestion,” I cut in. “She has powerful moves instead of… how do I phrase it—flowing. Of course it’s not bad, but I thought if I assign her explosive strong moves, we can bring out her potential.”

“On top of that she just wants to kill boys, Coach N,” Karin smirks.

“Interesting. Make time for me before your session with Lene starts,” there’s a subtle mischievous grin on his face when he responds. “Well, Lene, you get your power-player. Shape her to be a striker.”

“Ares, there is no such a thing in dancing…” I can’t help but giggling at him. Ah, he is always like that…

“Quick question, Coach Bragi,” Karin points at me while Tinny looks like trying her best not to laugh. “How long are you planning on settling on Coach N’s lap like that?”

“Huh? I—oh!!” red-faced, I glance around. My legs are folded by my side, and I could actually shift my position considering I’m much better and everything, b-but—

“Karin, you _disappoint_ me. We all love Coach Bragi! Gahhh, you should let her be happy for a while.”

“But Tinny, she’s a grown woman. Why would she need to lay down on Coach N like a baby?”

“N-now, girls,” I chuckle nervously, my eyes warily scan Ares. If he’s going to be a tease about that, he’ll go home _bald_ because NO WAY I’m sparing his mullet this way!

“Why is that a problem? She can lie there as long as she wants.”

“… Ares.”

“But you’re injured.”

“Hnnn—ARES.”

“Dense fucker, I won’t be surprised if she straight up murders you,” Diarmuid chops Ares in the head while I wish I was dead. “You know what—yeah, take your heroine. I’ll send these little ladies home.”

“Oh, that will be wonderful! Thank you, Diarmuid~!” I beam at him.

“But of course,” he grins, bowing to me as he takes off his baseball hat like a saluting knight. “You better get well soon, Our Lene of Perpetual Help, or this one will turn into a demon,” he points out at Ares.

“He already is! Who has a black phone and covers it with yet another black casing anyway?”

Diarmuid pauses. But not before long until his boisterous chuckles come out. “Gods. I get it now.”

“She thinks I’m alleged human,” Ares points at my nose. “Then somehow keeps getting flustered each time I wanted to prove to her that I am indeed a human.”

“Are you?” Diarmuid snickers. Huh? See, Ares is only human… allegedly!!

“Begone,” Ares shoots a death glare at him.

“Will do,” Diarmuid laughs, again, bowing at me.

“Unnecessary. Just go,” Ares chops him in the head.

“Ares.”

“But this is a chop, I’m not kicking him.”

“… _Ares_.”

“If you said so,” the other blonde remarks sullenly.

“He sulks. How cute of you, dear cousin,” Diarmuid grins, intentionally blowing a kiss at Ares. “Well, we part ways here! I did only plan to tag along until lunch anyway. Now back to kneading dough with Mom.”

“Good. A minute more late and I’ll kick you right to Aunt Lachesis’ feet.”

“My mom is too powerful for you,” Diarmuid hums. “I take it back—she is too powerful for us all.”

“That is for sure,” Ares smiles wryly. “I still remember the sweet fruit pudding she made me eat.”

“I forgot and I feel blessed,” Diarmuid responds, grimacing with him.

“Hnnn~? Really? But Ares loved fruity mango pudding!” I poke Ares in the ribs. “Right? Right~?”

“… Did he, really?” Huh, why does Diarmuid look so surprised?

“Out now, _dear_ cousin.”

“Or what?”

“Or I head-lock you _black_.”

“Goddamnit,” Diarmuid swears under his breath. “That settles it then! Come with me, little ladies. I’ll load you all in a taxi. I rode him to get here, so I don’t have my car with me.”

“P-please don’t phrase it like that,” I reflexively tug on his topknot, to his bewildered expression.

“Now you got the treatment too,” Ares _chuckles_. Too merrily perhaps. “Go, Diarmuid. And thank you.”

“Please tell your mother I’m a fan of Master Cakes!” I smile at him, waving my hand.

“Y-yes, will do, Ma’am.”

“He fears you too now,” Ares grins. “His eyes beg you to spare his life. Perfect.”

“And you are delighted at that?” I huff. “And what do you mean by ‘too’?”

“Well,” he scratches his head.

“YOU fear me?” I giggle along, finally fixing my position so I sit normally instead of leaning on him like that. But it still makes him sit so close to me… “Why, Ares, I don’t punch people.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know,” he purses his lips.

“Oh. But that is not good,” I contemplate a little. “I don’t want you to fear me! Sounds like an awkward situation to be in, how do we interact harmoniously if there is—uh, fear? I want you to…”

… Like me? I mean—that sounds horrible if we get along because he is uhhh—afraid of me, even if for some reason I do not know.

“To?”

Why, his eyes contain laughter!

“To regard me as your friend?” I respond. “Because I want to treat you right too, you know?”

“Oh,” he says. Huh? He is chuckling! “About that, don’t worry.”

“Really? I hope so, because how is everything alright if you fear me,” I smooth out my dress, taking the purse Ares has dropped beside me when he set me down.

“Not in that sense, rabbit,” he is still chuckling… “Are you going home after this?”

“No. I need to shop for groceries,” I shake my head softly. “I’m going to buy real food this time. Are you?”

“What a coincidence. I got my mother’s shopping list here,” he takes out his phone, showing me a message screen containing a long list of foods and cooking ingredients from his mother. _Mama,_ it reads. How cute. I wouldn’t have thought. Perhaps Fee is right—I should stop thinking all these weird things around him! From whether he’s got Oedipus complex or that he sounds nice when he laughs. Because even alleged human too has a mother he cherishes, right?

“Oh, alright! Wew, that’s a lot,” I touch the side of the sofa to hold on to as I get up.

He gets up before I do, giving his hand to me. “Yeah. But I’m used to it.”

“Ah, I’m alright now…” I mutter, feeling cheeky because I take it anyway.

“I told your student I’d make sure of _it_ ,” he emphasizes. “And if you don’t mind… groceries?”

“… With you?” I look at him.

He nods.

Always like that—so simple, so blunt and honest that everything is there for me to see. There is no trick, nothing I need to be wary about. I tail him as he hums, digging his key out of his pocket. And just like that, somehow I can’t resist. And perhaps—more than I’m willing to admit—the truth is I do not want to.

He opens the glass door for us, his eyes not leaving me like he’s making sure the previous accident does not repeat itself. And just like back then, he slows down his paces the moment we are out to reach for the parking lot so that I’m walking beside him instead of behind him.

My nose bridge still stings—perhaps it will bruise like he said. I circle around to evade a pebble on the ground, my hand now rubs against my forehead. Perhaps it’s getting blue there, who knows…

“Oh, sorry,” I reflexively tug on his arm for my misstep.

He turns around. “Don’t be,” his response is conveyed in the same manner as prior…

He let me clinging onto his arm—no question asked, no comment made, and definitely without any joke or banter. He simply has one hand in his pocket while the arm I’m hanging onto is clutching the key of his bike. The sun brightly shines above us—blazing hot now, but for some reason I still feel warm instead of… you know, scorched. We maintain such position until he gets to take out his bike out of the parking line, and just like prior, handing his helmet to me. Perhaps I’ve been enjoying this too since he needs to remind me that we’ll need to ride across back alleys instead of the open road since he won’t be wearing helmet and that may result in getting fined by the police.

“I understand,” I nod. “Gods, I’m sorry. This is so unplanned.”

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head. “Don’t be.”

Just then he hands his black leather jacket to me.

* * *

 

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _SO CROWDED HERE OMG does everyone have the same shopping plan or what??_

My last update flies smoothly into the world of Instagram.

 **_pheeew_ ** _I see thattt ehehehehehhh **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _What? ^^;;; **@pheeew**_

 **_pheeew_ ** _Sssh. You don’t have a leather jacket. **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _ORLY? I don’t need to tell you when I buy clothes! **@pheeew**_

 **_pheeew_ ** _Black, OVERSIZED leather jacket? Come on Leeenee **@dancedancerebellion**_

W-wew…

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _It’s Ares’ isn’t it_

Huh, our group chat…

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _Oh, a grocery date, how cute ^^ you’re so wifey hehehe!_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Maybe it’s Ares that is domestic._

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
Domesticated… lion?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
You domesticated Ares? Kinky. Rawr._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Again, Fee?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Sigh here comes the fun police._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
This is totally unplanned! ^^; He just happens to need doing groceries for his mom. Then he gave me a ride because we are heading to the same place anyway._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
You’re inside and still wearing his jacket._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Y-you’re right I’m taking it off X_X_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
“Taking it off” you said_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
FEE_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Have some decency, it’s a public place._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I’M NOT TALKING WITH YOU EVER AGAIN_

I lock my phone, returning it into my purse. “Uh—“ so, after weeks of accusing Ares to be only alleged human, I prove my humane superiority by… yes, talking to him like a caveman, gesturing to his jacket.

“Hmmm? Are you hot?”

“No, you are! I mean—yes?” Gods, what happened to my brain indeed?!

“Alright, alright, I’m taking it back before you are drowning,” he smirks, accepting his jacket and secures it in his backpack. Of course I have to yank his mullet for that. Sigh, height demon.

“So, I’ll take a basket while you take a cart, I suppose?” I steer my heels to get into the grocery store.

“No. Something else first,” he tugs on me, tilting me to face another direction.

… The food court. Yes, the food court.

“… Food?”

“Right. Come now, rabbit. What would you like to eat?” he smirks again. “Anything is fine with me.”

“Liar, you can’t eat sweets,” chuckling, I catch up with him.

“I mean anything you want is fine with me.”

“Huh? But of course I don’t need your permission to eat whatever I want.”

“Sure, but I mean I’m paying for the food today.”

Huh? He is treating me?

I hasten my steps because he already looks on various menus and stalls waiting at the food court area. T-there are families with kids here! And… what, why is it that the area around us is filled with… couples?? I get it, I get that it’s Saturday, but what’s with all these lovey-dovey folks around us? Ooooh my. I—wonder how Ares will feel about it! Will that make him awkward?

“Uh—Ares, this seating area is…”

“You don’t want to sit here? Let’s go somewhere else then.”

“N-nooo! I mean—ummm. Maybe you don’t like it because, y-you see…”

He glances around. And sure he can see couples getting cute and _shit._ Or getting gross-ish and cute at the same time. From holding hands and perhaps other things under the desk. I mean—he SHOULD get the idea. He should understand what I’m trying to say!

“Oh,” he shrugs. “Why would I, though?”

… R-really?

“You don’t—care?” if my eyes could _spill_ out of my face, they would!

“I don’t _mind_ ,” he pats me in the back. Why, I’m not a child, you alleged demon—I’m a velociraptor!

H-hold on, why a velociraptor again…

“You don’t mind,” I repeat, nailing his eyes with mine trying to find a loophole. Like there aren’t any hidden cameras planted in his cornea or something because what if he’s an ET? A cyborg?

“I don’t. Why would I feel insulted for being presumed to be with you?”

Oh. … Oh?? “G-good question,” I hold up my hands, surrendering. “Because, I thought… n-no. I’m not playing your mind reader again this time. N-no. If that’s what you want, t-then fine. Ah, look, Ares, there’s a ramen shop over there! Do you like noodles? Or you’d want something else?”

“What I want is easy—no sweets and I will live. What _you_ want is what I’m concerned about, rabbit,” he chuckles. “All of these mean nothing if you don’t actually like them. See, I want to please you too.”

“Y-you… straight face—“ I ruffle his hair, suddenly wanting to suplex him against the floor.

“Cute couple. Young people sure are happy. See, you don’t talk like that to me anymore,” from where we stand there is an elderly couple walking to our direction from the grocery store. W-whaaa—T?  

“UM—EXCUSE ME—“ I reflexively make a sound, and they, with that typical serene manner only old people can give you, look at me and SMILE!!

“Thoughtful boyfriend,” the old lady smiles at me, nodding with approval.

“Y-you got it all wrong!” gods, if these aren’t elderly people, I would have _yelled_ and evaporated with a red face at the same time! Do we look like a couple?! All those couples around us are holding hands or talking romantically from ear to ear, not yanking mullet and bantering! “H-he’s not… and…”

“And she just asked me what I liked,” Ares finishes my sentence.

“Brave, young man. Brave, for taking that leap,” the old man pats Ares. “My wife doesn’t even ask.”

T-they are gone. Hopefully to see a marriage counselor or therapist. Ares really tilts his head, covering half of his face with his hand because he really _is_ cackling _mad_ now. And I put my hands on my hips, huffing. T-this brazenly _endearing_ alleged demon needs to be punished!!

I sneak behind him. Damn it, I’m not going to lose. I’ll wipe that insolent laughter off his face CLEAN!

I grab him by the waist. Didn’t I tell you that I have a functioning brain instead of one that is a caveman’s or a goldfish’s? No? Good then because I did not even know where that came from. The next thing I know is that out of impulse I take him by the waist, and—

“Hiyah!”

He reflexively shifts, hooking my leg in a sweet, sweet second that we change positions so he catches _me_ instead. He rotates under me, and before I realize what I just _tried doing_ , his body is above mine while his arm encircles my torso—locking my arms at my sides as if they are chained down.

I—can’t move. At all. But the good thing is, what he did prevents me from falling.

“Well?” he inquiries. That mischievous smirk only gets sharper and more… leonine. _Raw_.

“L-let’s eat, I guess.” What was I thinking, trying to _suplex_ him…

“Surrender?”

“… Probably,” I mutter, unable to look at him.

“Okay,” he chuckles, releasing me. “Let’s get the noodles you want.”

“We can get something you like if you don’t want me—noodles,” I quickly retract. The FUCK, brain?

“I do.”

“Good!” I take his hand, leading him to the ramen shop. Thank God he is not human.

“… Ah, rabbit.” Huh, he chuckles? But why? Reminiscing in his victory for the failed suplex?

“Look, Ares, look~ the spicy beef curry udon is on promo!” I softly nudge him. Hnnn, I’m drooling just to imagine it! A warm bowl of udon noodles bathed in thick, nice curry sauce with meat stripes… it’s almost like my stomach does know that there’s food nearby and it’s been holding on through the day so I can coach and everything. Like… demanding a refuel after a hard labor. “Do you like spicy food?”

“Yes,” he replies right away. “Hmmm. It’s the big size that is on discount.”

Big size? Convenient because I’m _starving._ B-but… big sizes are not cute. I mean—not that I care, but usually, from what I heard so far, you know, some boys give you a hard time or secretly judge you for being a girl who can eat or _likes_ to eat. I can’t imagine the garbage plus-sized girls have to deal with…

“Big size, huh?”

I don’t really want to bet on my chances about Ares. It’s not even about what he possibly thinks regarding a so-called artsy Instagram figure deliberately slurping big-bowled spicy noodles with him, but considering how easy it is to get shat on Instagram, after what happened today I don’t think I’m… in the mood to deal with yet another… negativity. Today is beautiful, and please, just let me end it in peace!

“Oh, it’s a couple deal,” Ares is still focusing on the menu. “So it’s two packages in the price of one. Two similar meal sets and you can only opt out the beef for chicken. Still cheaper than a regular bowl.”

“T-then let’s see what else they have there,” I want to flip the menu, but he stops me.

“Lene, I’m paying. Just get whatever you want.”

“B-but it’s a… couple menu…”

“And?”

He replies so… calmly? “And you are… paying for us…”

“I am. And?”

“Exactly because you are. Don’t want to castrate your wallet,” I huff, taking back the menu booklet from him. “Castrating you is fine, though,” I quickly add before I sound—errr, too sweet. That’s the principal I live with—even if someone else is paying for me, I’ll just order something I can pay myself if I was alone.

“That is sweet.”

W-what? B-but I said that exactly because I did not want to be sweet! I guess my awkwardness quickly catches up because suuure I have to slam my legs under the table just like what I did in Saias’ class. Sigh. I’m still contemplating on the menu, when my luck strikes again. My stomach… growls! It audaciously makes a sound, which I’m sure loud enough for Ares to hear considering he is literally sitting facing me. God, I wish I could disappear into oblivion. That wasn’t cute at all. That was not—

Boy, Ares stands up. Maybe he is ashamed? “Ares, what are you…”

“Ordering,” he says simply, sparing me a little smile. “Just call out my name if anything happens.”

“Anything—happens?”

“Like if you want some extras or if some asshole thinks he can sit there uninvited with you.”

“Haha, why would some random dude do that? Usually they only approach the cute ones.”

“Exactly, rabbit.”

H-huh?

I don’t have time to suplex Ares again so he tells me—no, _elaborate,_ darn it—because he already walks up to the counter. He is truly getting the promo udon! Why, he looks so _happy_ when he returns with a tray and two bowls on them like he just won a tournament or something. “Got them,” he says, proudly setting the tray on our table as if presenting a regalia to me. “They are running out of these. Apparently the lovebirds who are out today love the deal.”

The food indeed looks amazing. Glistening brown curry sauce covers the thick noodles while the meat stripes look so well-cooked that they invite me to savor them. I’m indeed hungry. I did not have dinner nor breakfast…

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Unforgettable first bite. Delicious!! Thank you **@anblacknight** you are so kind! ^^_

I hit post after geotagging it as Verdane Shopping Center. Ares stops parting his chopsticks to check on his phone—perhaps my mention just came in and his phone vibrated to deliver Instagram’s alert.

… He smiles at the screen.

I know this is—probably—bad because of the candid shot, b-but…

I snap a photo of him. Under the neon light those blond strands do shine, but that is not what catches my eyes. It’s that expression he has on his face—so soft and kind, you’d think he’s a priest! O—okay, perhaps not _that_ extreme. After all I doubt a priest has _primal,_ raw smile like he can muster, but…

Ares seems to realize I’ve been looking at him because he turns his attention back to me, returning his phone to his pocket. “Is something the matter?” he asks innocently.

I shake my head. I can’t resist smiling as well somehow…

“I—see,” he mutters faintly that it’s almost like sighing before quickly returns to face his food.

“Heheee, why are you flustered~?” I tick his nose with my index finger. I can’t help myself—the serving is  generous for my empty stomach and it’s just sooo nicely spicy! Although I’m practically sweaty, in a short time what is left in the bowl is just the delicious curry broth because I’ve eaten the udon noodles.

Here goes the vital part then—slurping the broth out of a big bowl like this. I’ll probably ruin my face and he will probably think I’m gross. I know—I know I shouldn’t care what men think. After all, eating is humane, and girls need to eat too! After all slurping your noodles is just appropriate with the related custom. I don’t know how open-minded Ares is, but somehow I kind of want to be… presentable. If anything, I don’t want him to think of me as some sort of a glutton. Somehow. Somehow…

“Why stop?” he points at my unfinished bowl. “The best part is the last one. All the spices are there.”

“I’m—sweaty.”

… Truly not the best reply, huh?

“Me too because the spices kicked ass,” he responds. “What’s the problem?”

“No—you don’t get it!” O-oops, now that I blurted it out…

He stops eating. “I get that you actually like it,” he says then.

“Ummm…”

“I don’t waste food,” he smirks. “Glad to see a girl who can take that bowl _clean_. But then again perhaps you shouldn’t skip meals every so often.”

“H-hold on,” I nearly slam my fist against the table. “So you mean… and you—know?”

“I don’t follow many people, so your updates easily appear on my newsfeed,” he answers firmly. “I understand you want to spare the best for Coirpre, but if this is the way, you’ll only break his heart.”

… Oh…

“I understand, though. So if this one is still available, let’s get a takeout for Coirpre,” he adds. “On me.”

Oh…?

“Ares—hnnn—Ares…“ I should probably say something better, but… but suddenly…

“What’s wrong? Your eyes look glassy. Did the chili powder get caught in your eyes?” he leans in to check on me. “Open your eyes. I’ll just—“ he is half-standing now, bending right in front me, blowing softly. “Huh, you are… teary? This one did not work then?”

I can’t contain it any longer. Grabbing three plies of tissue on the table, I can only shake my head, mumbling his name as I begin to cry a little. T-this is totally unprecedented. And totally not cool at all. Totally not cute at all. Probably too childish. W-why am I getting so sentimental just because of a bowl of spicy curry udon? I wish I could just tell him; what am I doing, trying not to bawl while muttering his name like this? W-what is… “Thank you,” finally I can make a coherent reply—or so I wish. “I…”

“Lene?” he calls on me.

“Y-yes?” I nearly sob, softly blowing into the tissue as I speak. H-how… ugly…

“What did I text you in the morning?”

“I’m not—a burden for you to—” I answer, setting aside the tissue to take another ply but he stops me.

“There. Not a burden,” he pats my hand from across the table. “So let’s just finish this. At three. Ready?”

“Alright,” whispering, I follow his gesture, taking the bowl with me. He starts counting. I peek from the bowl, and he faintly smiles at me. When his count reaches three, he quickly slurps the broth, and I follow suit. It does feel nice. A real meal does feel nourishing. Not only that I begin to feel my strength coming back, b-but also… it does feel nice to just—exist. Humanely, without caring of what’s supposed to be cute or proper because—because we are just eating. I don’t know slurping noodles broth can feel so… liberating. And I owe Ares that.

… Maybe he is human after all?

“Done?” he sets his bowl aside.

I nod. Without saying anything else, he gets up, and I follow after taking my purse with me. Ares steers back to the grocery store with me at the side, not tailing him as I typically do out of reflex because he walks fast and takes long strands. And I really don’t care to powder my face again. I don’t even care if my lip gloss needs reapplying because of the spicy noodles—I… am happy.

… Happy…?

We’re halfway approaching the store when Ares suddenly takes out a plastic bag out of his backpack to throw into a nearby garbage can. “Here to flush those noodles down.”

Oh, he’s getting me a drink? I didn’t even notice. Wait—

“Strawberry… milk tea?”

“With tapioca bubbles. Based on the log from Lionheart Kitchen—combined with my own Instagram purchase—“ he smirks, making me blush a little, “—I figured there’s a pattern.”

“I thought I’ve successfully covered my track,” I reply, begrudgingly sucking into the straw. “Hnnn. Thank you again! I looove this,” I beam at him. “… You win. I _do_ love strawberries. What did you get?”

He pauses before muttering faintly. “… Mango.”

“Mango?” giggling, I poke him.

“There’s lemon in there too,” he adds, averting his face from me.

“Awh, you’re so cute,” I keep teasing him until he clears his throat.

We finally get to the grocery store, with him taking a cart and me grabbing a basket. “It will probably get heavier as we shop,” he says, gesturing to my basket. “So why don’t you place it inside my cart?”

“That be okay?”

“Of course, rabbit,” he replies casually.

We stroll along, visiting aisle to aisle to get everything in our respective list. Wow, it really is shopping day for Ares. His cart fills up pretty quickly, and his mother’s list begins to be fulfilled slowly. He patiently waits on me as I contemplate my choices at the butchery. Right—chickens are cheaper than beef cuts, so I guess I’ll just get some and ask the guy behind the counter to cut them clean for me. And likewise, I wait on Ares as he takes the meat cuts his mother asked.  

He stands before the counter, looking rather awkward, fiddling with his phone, staring at the screen again and again like a lost child. So I push our—ahem—his!—cart to where he stands. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t understand this one,” he shows his phone to me. Oh, his mother wanted briskets but saying something like short plates are a-okay provided the deal is better. “Better like what?”

I glance around. “Why don’t you try directly asking how much they will charge for both types for the amount your mother needs? Then compare it with the chucks. They are tough, but if cooked well and tenderized as long as you would the briskets you may land a deal.”

“I can’t cook or bake,” he scratches his head sheepishly. “I’ll ask though.”

Okay, I thought that will be it. But a minute later he gestures to me to come closer, and he sways to a less-crowded side asking me to follow him. Huh, he takes out his phone?

“Mom? It’s Ares and I’m at the groceries,” I can hear him speaking. “Lene has a suggestion.”

W-whaaa—?!

“Ares—your—mom?” I mouth to him, to which he nods back, handing his phone to me. Oh—my—God?! “H-hello? Mrs. Nordion? Y-yes, it’s Lene! Yes, the same Lene who sent you the pudding! Uhhh—y-yes, the Lene who asked Ares about—ahem, his choice of… clothing that night…” I stick my tongue at Ares, conveniently stepping on his foot while he chuckles. I’m so going to murder him after this.

“Ah, yes!! Ares’ future wife whose pudding will end Little Lachesis’ negotiation with the culinary devil, yes?” I hear a woman giddily replies from the other side.

“I’m—sorry, what?”

“Pay no mind to it,” Ares whispers to me, blushing red.

“Grahnye?”

“Uuu, Eldieee.”

“We’ve discussed this. No dethroning each other or making assassination plans, Darling.”

“Alright,” the woman sighs. “Ah—sorry. Yes, dear? Some suggestion? Sorry to trouble you, my son is a total dumbass when it comes to the kitchen. He’s always the eater, that boy. But yes, let me hear you!”

“Ummm. So the cuts you want cost like…” I relay everything we asked the counter guy prior, including my suggestion of the chucks—or whatever, other things. “And then Ares mentioned you wanted this brand. I’d think it’s better if you get the bigger one because it will save you some money! It’s staple in your cooking, you said? Hello? Ah—yes, like that. Yes, for the spice rack too! Sometimes powdered ones are okay to save time grinding everything… oh, food processor? I see, I see. Ah, yes! So…” finally it’s concluded, and I did not realize I’ve practically talked to Mrs. Nordion for about ten minutes, exchanging tips and tricks to budget while still manage to produce kick-ass meals. I hand back the phone to Ares.

“It’s me again, Mom,” he says. Standing this close to him, I can hear his mother talking on the phone, and at this point, she sounds… beaming.

“Your Lene is a lifesaver! So, my cub, here are the changes. Instead of…” she begins to rapidly relay the shopping necessities while Ares struggles to get a pen. “Mom. Mom—wait, please, slow down. Mom?”

I glance at him. He nods. Quickly taking out my phone, I get a note screen ready. “Repeat what she says,” I softly nudge Ares so he leans down that I can reach his ear to whisper.

Ares is probably _too glad_ to do what I asked for. “Okay. The brand? Huh? Right. Amount? Okay. Lene? What about her… _Mom_ ,” he emphasizes, looking away from me. “Right. Will that be all? Okay. Bye.”

“Will that be all?” I ask. He nods, so I quickly save the note and send it to him as a text.

He looks so _incredibly_ relieved the moment my text arrives. “Thank you. I owe you.”

“Oh, Ares, it’s alright,” I chuckle. “Everyone has some things they are dumb at.”

“Admittedly I am, at this one,” he grimaces.

“Gods, I was so nervous. The great Lionheart chef asked for my input?” we leave the meat aisle with him taking back the cart from me to push.

“She humbly thanked you,” Ares looks flustered again for a second. “And she said… other things.”

“One—I’ve got no intention to help her dethroning your aunt.”

“Told her so. No, not that one.”

“Okay. What is?” I brace for the worst. That I said weird things? That my pudding was meh?

“First, she said you sound so cute,” Ares scratches his head. “You’ve got a nice voice she likes to hear because somehow she said it kind of showed that you are really, really kind.”

“H-huh?”

“And lively. Powerful. I don’t—gahhh.”

“Why are you getting so awkward?”

“She—asked if I thought you were—pretty.”

“Whaaaa?”

“I know,” he holds up his hands.

“What did you say? Aaah, what did you say?!” I tug on him.

“Suplex me _flat_ and I’ll tell,” he chuckles. “After all, this is between me and my mom, no?”

“But I’m the subject,” I pout. “Not fair. I know what you said though—allegedly.”

“Oh?”

He’s got that primal leonine smirk again… “The answer is no.”

“That is correct!” he nods hastily. Sobs, meanie… I get that he is honest, b-but.

Sigh, whatever! Life won’t stop just because a demon thinks I’m too humane to be pretty. Who cares, anyway?! What’s more important, I got everything I need. You know, I’ve been tightening my belt these weeks. I deserve real foods, darn it. Hate to admit but Ares is right though—if I am lethargic or exhausted due to lacking nutrition, then nothing will end well. My school assignments, my stage jobs… can’t move if you’re hungry, right? So, welcome to my fridge, eggs, baguettes, aaand chickens~! And here’s to the roux I’ll be making since the ingredients can doubly function for gravy. And great, the curry blocks have smaller size. I won’t feel too bummed as if I just got robbed by some maniacal highwaymen after the cashier rings these all then. And yeah, mackerel sardines. The pepperoni. The frozen sausages and chicken nuggets. Rice grains! Aaaa, food, food, food~!!

We part our purchases, with Ares helping me to take my basket out of his cart. We are still silently standing next to each other as the cashier rings my purchase, and we are not making any talk after I’m done and even when he takes his card out to pay.

“Here, let me carry it,” he gestures to my purchase.

“Nooope. Not until you tell,” I stick my tongue at him.

“Okay. Suplex me again at the parking lot,” he grins.

“But you’ll catch me again,” I pout.

“Allegedly so!” he nods solemnly.

“Hnnngh!”

“Ouch,” he simply chuckles when I yank his mullet. “Would you please let me carry your purchase?”

“What for, to be hexed, since you’re alleged human?”

“So I can drive you home, rabbit,” he replies. “And don’t worry about what my mom thinks.”

“Convincing, Mister Felidae,” I grumble, whacking his head with my purse. This is my third pout today and of course I’m not proud of myself at all, but who cares at this point? Still, all jokes aside, I do accept his offer to give me a ride. Like it or not, he is right, though—I don’t feel like riding the train home with a big plastic bag of groceries hanging onto me. This isn’t the typical store I go to, which is fifteen minutes by walking from my apartment. It will be wonderful if he can rest for a while at my house before riding home again. I’m tired after coaching, and he probably is as well, since he and Diarmuid were out since the morning to train at Crusader’s Ward. Just because he’s strong doesn’t mean he has to… exploit himself, you know?

He puts his leather jacket on me again, so I stop by his rearview mirror to fix my dress. By now he’s already taking his position, clutching on the handlebar with his gloved hands. “They start showing.”

“What is?”

“The bruises,” his voice is rather heavy. “Why, I’m a dumbfuck.”

“It’s alright~! Good that I’m tan,” I climb on the bike, sitting myself behind him. He ignites the machine. The sun begins to tilt as it is already around four in the afternoon, and I reply in affirmative when he asks if I’m done seating myself comfortably. The machine begins to roar, so I give a last touch to smooth my dress, telling him I’m ready.

“Maybe I should get a woman’s helmet,” he mutters as if he’s talking to himself. I’m tempted to ask more since I thought Diarmuid will be driving Nanna around now that he’s back from abroad, but Ares already has his bike galloping on the road. Tightening his jacket on me, I touch his shoulders out of reflex.

The coarseness of his sturdy build is of course—still there. I wonder how many years he took to build up such… power. Perhaps his trainings are brutal. And perhaps so were his fights. But strangely, there’s this warmth emanating from him as we sit closely like this. I wonder… perhaps the sun is still strong even though we’re approaching the evening. It’s summer, anyway. Summers are supposed to be warm.

But Ares is the Black Knight—allegedly; as mysterious and ferociously menacing like the night. And nights tend to be cold. And so was the night I met him. So was he when he took down his opponents. And his shoulders were there many times to also... shield me. Protect me. And today, he embraced me.

I touch him again. It’s still warm...

 

... I’m so confused.


	9. So Many #Feels

I rub my eyes. What time is it? How long have I been asleep?

The sun warmly peeks into my room. The windows help turning the sunrays into refractions of light, beautiful like a little rainbow arc. That is enough to make me slowly open my eyes. Am I in a movie or something? … No. Can’t be in a movie. If I was an actress, the shooting reel sure would not allow me to sleep oh-so lazily like that.

Then… on a plane? Like one of those aesthetic photos where the plane is crossing a sea of clouds on a golden hour. And then there will be a window-seat shot which shows a beautiful arching rainbow. And then it will be tranquil inside the plane, with people are either watching their seat-integrated TV or being asleep because the journey is exhausting. But supposedly, the protagonist of an aesthetic photo will not be disturbed at all, since it is as if she is the only person to exist, living and feeling contended while the world around her is asleep.

… Allegedly. Sigh.

What time is it again?

I feel around my bed, finding my phone miserably squeezed between pages of a book I had left open the night prior. Right, right. I need to make time to study. As annoying and difficult I find kinesiology to be, it’s not like my assignment will magically solve itself by being hated.

If only, though!

And really now, eight o’clock?! Wew, wake up there, lazy Lene!

Huh, my phone flashes notifications… ah, there is an email and a few more from Instagram?

You know—why don’t I post this rainbowy morning sun too before I check for the rest?

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Feeling #aesthetic haha good morning!_

Can I skip school today? This is just the perfect day to be lazy.

 ** _pheeew_** _Quick copyright it before some soul mines it to post somewhere else lol **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _Good morning to you too! ^^ **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _You look so contended **@dancedancerebellion** Not planning on skipping class today right?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Busted >.< **@larceiheyhey** Arrrghhh botched!!_

My classes will not start until past noon. And I can start the day from the sports hall to test out the choreography I’ve had in mind with Boa Kwon’s _Girls on Top_ as I proposed on Saturday with the girls. I wonder if Ares will be there too. I’m feeling rather… cheeky and sheepish at the same time for even thinking about it, somehow. Like I want to go there hoping to catch a glimpse of him, you know?

Hnnn, why would I feel that way again?! Feh!

… But it will be fun to meet up with Ares again. He treated me to a late lunch and gave me a ride home so I kind of feel like… paying him back…

Uh-ummm. I have to admit last Saturday was actually… pretty fun. And yeah, I did try to suplex Ares at the mall, but then again, we are talking about _my_ brain here! And he was so courteous that I forgot to hand him the questionnaire for the soccer boys! Wew! Saias will need a draft on Wednesday. Aaaah!

S-speaking of whom! Ahem!

Ares drove me to my apartment. He then helped me carrying my purchase. We rode the elevator, with me keeping my silence while he looked up and down like he was assessing the elevator. I asked him what for, and he told me he was glad because the apartment and elevator appeared safe. As we got inside, however, he suggested to me to not wait on the elevator facing the button, because such position easily evoked vulnerability, making the person prone to being attacked from behind.

He said that in such a way which made me kind of… shy to look at him, somehow. At that time he bent a bit so his face was closing in on mine, like he truly wanted me to really take his advice!

… The thing is, Ares did not… get in. I offered him a drink because supposedly we were both tired after conducting each of our activities. I, with coaching the girls from Thracia, and he supposedly was too, after… training with Diarmuid for hours I guess. And then we went through a sea of shoppers and couples who crowded the mall that queuing at the cashier—especially with Ares’ loaded cart, took... eh, pretty long time. Even if he truly is as fit as he told me—gosh, remind me to _try_ suplexing him again later!—I don’t think a lion demon does not tire.

But when I offered, he simply smiled faintly, thanking me for the invitation.

He did not get inside. I already pictured Coirpre to get all bouncy and excited to see him again, but he simply handed me the extra takeout he ordered with our lunch to give to Coirpre…

“Won’t it be better for you to give it to him yourself?” I had asked then. Perhaps my little brother did not say much—perhaps he did not want to make me feel… excluded. But by the look from his eyes even during that night when we were out to buy the instant lunches he wanted, I could confidently say that he did like Ares. And Ares seemed to be… pretty appreciative of Coirpre. I might be too impressed—more than what I’m willing to admit, but despite his… aloof tendency, Ares does not rebuff my brother like Coirpre is this disturbance for him. I mean—there’s a difference between not wanting to be bothered by kids and like, _actively_ loathing kids, you know?

Hnnn, come to think of it, perhaps I’ve seen too many unsavory individuals—men—that simple decency impressed me that much. I just like that Ares seems to be… sincere, you know?

Perhaps I’m too proud to tell him that Coirpre not-so-secretly idolizes him. But like… I made it clear that he could give the food to Coirpre himself; after all, he was the one paying for it!

… Did he just… pity me because my Instagram updates showed up on his newsfeed? Perhaps I just sounded so… pathetic? Or too sad that even a lion demon could not pretend he did not read anything?

Perhaps I should stop being… transparent of my misfortunes on Instagram…

… But if not like that, how do these people will see that I’m also a human being—with thoughts and feelings? After all, if I appear happy all the time, they think I’m vapid or faking! I’m tired too, you know, I get exhausted, and that happens more often than not considering what I have in my plate. And yet…

I don’t want Ares’ pity. At the same time somehow I know I’m going to feel rather… sad if that exactly is what Ares based his interactions with me so far. And I wish I knew what he truly thought of me! Not to mention that he just straight up said no when his mother asked him if he thought I was pretty…

… Hnnn. Somehow that made me feel so bummed. But why? And why do I have to care if he thinks I am or I am not? There are pretty ladies out there. He casually said he’s got a taste, and I’m pretty sure it transcends beyond mango pudding…

… What kind of girls that fit Ares’… taste again?

H-haha, this is ridiculous. Who cares, really. Perhaps such girl has to have killer biceps. And maybe she will be smart as hell. Maybe she’s got a pretty face, the kind of beauty that is just so otherworldly that it will blow you away after slapping you in the face, if not kicking you right at the solar plexus the way Ares darted his at that sports hall creep.

Someone older, probably a college senior like him who already has everything set in motion. The way he… does. That blueprint he presented at the Maera Hall, the businessman who seems to be eager working with him in that revitalization project he designed. The way he was both stubborn and sure enough of his motorcycle that the moment he decided to bag it home, that very moment he did not stop to rest until the old horse could race the road again.

Ares did smile at me as he left after sending me to my door that Saturday. But there was… is… lingering hollow feeling even after he left because it was as if he just rejected me. The way he cleaned my face with a tissue when he arrived with the food we ordered from Lionheart Kitchen.

Is he too polite to just… tell me to say away? At the same time I don’t want him to stay close to me just because I’m convenient! Now, now, the girls did say he isn’t acquainted with many people…

I’m going to post that in our group chat. What can I lose? It’s not like I can have the things I want!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hi girls! I have a question._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Yes, I’m going to hate you if you deliberately skip Forseti when we have him. Next?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Good God Larcei not that, I’ve promised! It’s about Ares._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
All ears on deck >:3_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
You… didn’t you say you are nursing your mom? ^^;_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Yeah and my dad is a dick!! So yeah, shoot it Lene._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Can’t you convince him to stay home lol it’ll be beneficial for us all._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Riiiight!_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _… I don’t wanna get into this but. I wish I could. He’s like the wind, swaying here and there, blowing here and there getting busy and praised while my mom is here, at home… maybe he secretly hates us all. Maybe he secretly wants to stop being our dad?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Awh now I feel bad :( -hugs-_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
I’ve never seen Ced THAT angry. I’ve never seen Ced balling his fist like that last night._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Omg. Ced wanted to punch him??_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Close. If my mom didn’t cough so hard like her bones were breaking :”(_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I’ve got an idea, Larcei!_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Say it._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Let’s skip Forseti to help Fee taking care of her mom!!~_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
GUYS_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
If Forseti found us in his house at least he’d be so ASHAMED trollololol_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Yeah I dread him going apeshit if he found you guys dad-shaming him in my house._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
FUUUU. Ok how about this. We get Fee’s mom to the hospital if she is not getting better._

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Doesn’t sound so bad to me >:3  Tomorrow then?_

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _And Ulster?_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Let him eat cake!_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
GUYS TT__TT_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Also HEY LENE WHAT IS IT ABOUT ARES you wanna asked??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Oh, it’s nothing~! ^^ Perhaps I was just confused because, you see, he’s only alleged human!_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
I hope he did not… I mean, he didn’t make you sad, I hope?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Well he’s not my boyfriend though, so like…_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Lene._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Everything is under control! ^^ See you later, Fee!_

I can’t say yes. And worse, I feel like I don’t have the right to be sad. He’s not committed to me, and I shouldn’t feel special just because… nobody ever treated me the way he does like that. I shouldn’t, no matter how tempting it is. Unless he tells me what he thinks, I won’t claim I know anything.

… After all it’s not like life ever gives me what I wanted…

Ah, bummer. Fee’s mother is sick but at least she is there. Somewhere my friend can touch, hear, or see. While mine… I don’t even know if she is still… alive or not. The only viable option seems to be stage-hopping myself, but then again it’s not even viable! Sigh.

I check on my email before packing my laptop to school. Huh? My bank account… aaa, I got paid! Fucking finally! The paycheck from Thracia just came in, sweetly landing in my account. Well, that cheers me up a bit. Kind of feels like a remedy after the grocery I did on Saturday!

And suddenly I remember Ares…

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Aresss do you like cream honestly ^^_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
No._

S-so honest! And this is actually pretty funny considering his aunt runs a patisserie!

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Liar~ you licked the cream clean when cleaning me :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Different case, different action, rabbit._

He still calls me rabbit!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Were you tired after yesterday? ^^_

C-crap. Not only it sounds too demure than I intended to do, it sounds like an innuendo as well! Hnnn, lately this happens often. I really suspect Ares is a demon because he keeps making me feel awkward without even trying! C… can it be that he secretly sucks my soul each time I interact with him??

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _No. Somehow._

Ah, glad that he isn’t human so he won’t make fun of it!

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Maybe because you were there with me?_

Huh?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… Ares, I UNDERSTAND you’re only alleged human, but… ^^;;;_

But this foils my plan to treat him to cake! Besides, if I’m buying him Master Cakes then it’s useless. I mean, it’s his aunt’s products. And seems he already gets his daily cake dose for free. I’ll need to think of something else. Besides, I forgot to give him the copies of Saias’ questionnaire I need him to distribute to the soccer boys. We had arrived at my door with bags in our hands… alright, _his_ hands, since he was carrying his purchase _and_ mine. And he turned down my invitation to come in just like that.

… Politely, though. Like he still smiled and spoke to me courteously… now hold on, come to think of it, that courteous mannerism was even more courteous than ever. Really though, if at that time he confessed he was on a time lapse and actually got transported from the old age, I would just say yes. Hnnn. Still bummed for being rejected, but then he said he did not invite himself in.

But what if I wanted… to? What if I wanted him to come in?

Is it because he wants to maintain a distance since he is coaching Coirpre? But he interacts with me just fine on Instagram! A-and his texts. Yeah, we don’t only exchange Instagram stuff. He still texts me even after that blissful morning when he said his family loved my pudding.

_I enjoyed the noodles._

That came in the morning before I woke up. And now I’m fiddling with my phone, thinking to reply that.

_Did you even sleep lol, demon, demon~_

I bet other girls would have said something… cuter. Besides, why would Ares be attracted to someone who called him demon most of the time? Right?

_I did. Otherwise, I need to drink blood._

_You will need… WHAT?_

_Back then you asked if I ate flesh and drank blood?_

… Oh, right. AAAA—

… Ahem. So he can joke too, huh. At my expense? … Alright, I did joke… at _his_ expense. Sigh.

_You texted that at like… 5:00._

_My day starts early :)_

_I’m honestly amazed._

_I don’t want to text you on a late night, rabbit._

_Oh…_

Getting rejected again, huh?

_I want to be decent, that’s all._

Huh?

_But I want you to know I liked it._

That’s rather sweet. Why, I can’t handle this somehow…

I decide I’ll just move on to the email which just arrived in my inbox. Ah, this one particularly catches my interest. From… ah, a night club? Night club…

_I’m interested to hire you again for around Thursday. You blew me away prior, do it again, dear ;)_

Ew. I forgot that said night club owner is a... well, an enthusiastic old man—to put it mildly. The night when I met Ares for the first time, I was actually getting back from said night club. Located at the Yied Avenue, the club is more like a gentleman’s club, so to speak, if you catch what I’m saying. And no, I wasn’t dancing naked although I did try the pole and chair to get… creative. I needed things to put on my CV, didn’t I tell you? And even if Bramsel Darna is too tacky and sleazy for my taste—hold on, sorry, it’s not that I’m saying I have a _taste_ for dirty old men, you know!—nothing happened so far, so I guess… give it another try? And now that I understand the area better, maybe I should just get an Uber to take me home. After all, I just got paid. If Ares turned me down like that, then good, serves you right because I’ll use the coffee money to pay for my transportation fee.

This reminds me of maid cafes. At least they tend to compensate giving you a ride if you are working night shift. Is Bramsel willing to… eugh, probably I shouldn’t. I have no intention to keep dancing for him, anyway, and hooo boy would I invite a suspicious rich old man who can affect my life with a touch of privilege to my apartment, risking to expose where I live?

It’s not that I want to sound elitist. Even if the apartment is relatively smaller, it’s still my own place and I’m proud of it. But there’s just… something… something I don’t really want to get involved in further. I need the paycheck. I need to put something on my CV to show that I’ve sailed venues to pave my way as a professional dancer. And yeah, regardless of what is what, saying I did try dancing with poles and chairs will be a point I’d like to bring on my future endeavors to showcase that I’m up for challenges, and I’m willing to try out new things even though I’m not a… pole-dancer.

Back then, Bramsel holed himself in his own cabin, though. He did not get down to the dance floor or visiting tables to greet the customers. He did welcome me, with his bouncer or whatever it was at his side—a muscular bearded man with messy short, dark-ish blond hair called Javarro, if I recall. Maybe a bodyguard. He barely batted an eye when I shook hands with Bramsel.

I guess I was glad. Usually bodyguards like him would pay attention closely to anyone approaching the boss, to the point of like… analyzing you. I won’t say I was comfortable, but knowing well anything worse than that could happen, I guess I’d take it. After all, if he did not feel the need to scan me, then I should be off his radar. And I hate to admit, Bramsel’s club paid me well. That is also one of the reasons why I can manage these past three months after the encounter I had with Ares—he knew what he wanted and was willing to pay for it, so… commendable?

I wish I could be home before midnight to minimize… risk. You know what I mean? Even if not the club, it’s the street. I absolutely do not want to encounter yet another robbery attempt!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hey Ares, back then you said you taught Nanna… self-defense tips?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I did._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I was wondering if…_

I’m not sending that yet. The reply gets stalled because I’m contemplating whether I should or not. Ares is probably waiting since Instagram must have shown him little gray dots saying I’m typing.

I decide to just let it go then. Why, if Ares interacts with me out of pity… and considering he did not even want to come inside my house to unwind when I offered… considering his blunt honesty that he did not think me pretty at all—I mean, I probably shouldn’t… be so attached to him.

I can’t ask more than the little of what life gave me. On top of that, I don’t… dare.

I hear a faint knocking on my door, so I quickly seal my phone inside my bag. Well, sorry if you’re waiting for a reply then, Ares. I guess today I’ll… retreat. You once said you did not retreat and you took hits, right? Then I guess, this time…

Sorry, but…

“Sis?” Coirpre’s face peeks in after I mumble a half-hearted yes.

“Hello there, sleepy boy. What’s up?” I greet him. His face looks puffy…

“Can I just skip school?” he yawns. “I’m not really up for it today.”

“Are you unwell?” I shift my attention on him at an instant. “How do you feel?”

“Um, like, a bit dizzy,” he says.

“Hmmm? Let me check,” I put my hand on his forehead. “You’re not feverish though, Coirpre.”

“Really?” he replies. Is it just me or does he appear a bit… sullen? Like he’s disappointed because he is not sick!

“Yes, you are not,” I hate to have to do this, but I can’t indulge him. I love him to death, alright, but I don’t want to enable bad habit! “Maybe you slept too much. You were as soundless as a baby on Saturday. And then on Sunday…”

“I was outside the whole day,” he grins. “Guilty.”

“Right,” I ruffle his hair. “See, Coirpre, you shouldn’t overdo it like that, or it will be an endless cycle,” I muster my older sister tone. I don’t have much choice here—I love him, but I’ll still need to be a guardian and that means there will be times when Coirpre has to learn… discipline. “Accumulated exhaustion, prompting you to sleep a lot. Which only made you feel tired when you woke up. And then rinse and repeat because you thought since you slept a lot your body got enough rest. Hnnn?”

“Y-yeah,” he fidgets. “Sigh. So, school it is then.”

“I’m sorry,” I smirk. “But here goes then. If you truly feel unwell, text me and I’ll pick you up!”

“Really?” he beams at me.

“Yeah! But if you _are_ unwell, we’ll stop by at the hospital first.”

“No fun,” he sighs.

“Being sick is not supposed to be fun, Coirpre!” I roll my eyes at him. “Besides, it’s close to finals, right? And I can imagine you can’t slack your soccer practice.”

“Oh, right. Almost forgot about that,” he responds. “Ced showed up with bleary eyes on Friday. Said his mother was sick, but he still played.”

My mind flies back to Fee. If Professor Forseti has been neglecting his family like that, why, somehow it feels hard to face him in class knowing he’s out there and my friend and her underage brother labor themselves for his sick wife…

“It must be hard for him,” I nod. “So you be a good friend to Ced too, alright~?”

“Sure!” Coirpre nods back. “After all, he is so nice to me, Sis! Maybe the only one besides Tinny.”

“Huh?” I tilt my head. “What does it mean?”

“Oh, nothing! See, he is a star player. I’m surprised he’s nice to me.”

Why is Coirpre fidgeting again?

“Coirpre, listen to me. If someone is nice, then nice it is they are! Even if you’re a star player… from the lowest rank,” I chuckle a little, “it does not mean you do not deserve a friendship! Alright?”

“Hnnn. Okay,” he replies, dragging himself away from his room. “I’ll let you know if I get sick for real.”

“Yes. Mischiefs are fine every once in a while, but don’t lie to me, alright?” I pinch his nose gently. He coughs so hard that for a moment I’m afraid I’ve destroyed his nose. Hmmm? Maybe I’m stronger than I thought? If that’s the case, then how nice! The best way to test it will be trying to take down Ares.

W-why him again…

But yeah, I _do_ want to take down Ares! He can’t get sharp-eyed with me and then leaving me hanging in the dark like that. Get ready, Ares, I’ll take you down! If I can’t suplex him, there has to be another way, right??

I open Google.

_How to take down a lion demon._

A-and just my dry luck, the search results showed me… paranormal stories! Aaaah, that’s the opposite of what I need! Darn it!

_Lene, may we talk?_

Huh? Oh? Ah, Ares texted me again. Ah, yeah, I left his previous text hanging unreplied…

… Again, why did he use such polite tone?

_Ahhh Aresss I’m heading to Jugdral-U! ^^  
I will need to give you the questionnaire though! TTYL._

I can’t handle any more… niceties, if he’s going to be… partial like that…

_I’m already in campus._

Just that?

I decide to let it go. Yeah, so what if he’s already in campus! Anyway…

Fee is right—I usually have my phone close to me. I usually reply all the replies I got. … Or texts I got. But this time I guess I have to… differ.

… Perhaps for the better?

I pick out my outfit for the day, watching Coirpre to make sure he eats his breakfast.

Thankfully, he does. Better than I’d hope, he seems to enjoy it because he cleans his plate quickly. I make a mental note to cook something nice when I get home in the evening—considering I just got paid and will be receiving yet another paycheck from Bramsel later. Somehow there is this… regretful feeling that I don’t have time to make Ares something nice to repay the late lunch he bought me.

... Somehow.

* * *

 

 **_schalphy  
_ ** _Hey Lene, this is Seliph :) I heard something interesting from the boss, if you want to know? :D_

My phone flashes. And I’m sooo not regretting to check it out! Yay, it’s Seliph. And what’s this, a juicy gossip~?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Heheee, what is it about, Seliph~? Juicy gossip? Rivaling Fee now? :P_

 **_schalphy  
_ ** _Haha, no! I assure you, it’s credible :) meet me up at Tirnanog? It’s still under construction so neither the boss nor I can announce anything yet. I’m scheduled until three today._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You made it sound so secret! Haha, are we playing secret agent here, Seliph~? Uh, and your class? :O_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Should be done by eleven! Ahhh. I take my books with me, though, don’t worry :D_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Oh, sounds cool! You know, come to think of it, perhaps it will be perfect. I need me some coffee…~_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Oh, perfect :D just holler at me when you get here!_

_I’m at the sports hall._

Why, Ares seems so… keen today… oh hold on, he texts again.

_I'm concerned. Is something bothering you?_

Hnnn, the lion radar.

_No, why~?_

I hope my cheeriness transcends back to him!

_People don't just suddenly ask for self-defense tips out nothing._

... Ah, Ares... 

But that gives me ideas. Prepare for my revenge!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Anywayyy you may need to make two cups, Seliph~!_

 **_schalphy  
_ ** _Haha, paper needing an uraken-uchi or what?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Uraken… uchi?_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Oh, sorry! A backfist strike! Not sure why that went on my mind at an instant, haha! Perhaps because this morning the boss made me plaster a new poster on the announcement board._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Backfist strike! :O Omg Seliph, you fight??_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Ah, sorry. I do a bit! It’s karate._

… Karate? That kind-hearted, baby-faced Seliph?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Heheee really? Wow Seliph you sound like a comic protagonist~! Unassuming but #deadly_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Ah, now I’m embarrassed. I don’t want to be deadly. Just being able to protect everyone is enough :)_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Seeee don’t be so modest, hehehe~ you already talked like one… ~_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
I’m already happy to help shielding people out of harm’s way :) Besides, deadly is more fitting for…_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hnnn~? For? Bruce Lee?~_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Haha yes sure he was! But Lene, Bruce Lee did not do karate. It was jeet kune do which he invented!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Oooh! Is that why he was called the Legend? :O Sorry Seliph I don’t know much about… um, this thing ^^;_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
That and many things :D oh, it’s alright! I probably should apologize for introducing you to these things._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Don’t be, don’t be ^^ after all I like learning new things! Sooo, who is it then if not Bruce Lee?_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
… Ah. Someone… else. Used to be feared for his deadly swift kicks, as his art is known for as well :)_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Used to?? Ooomg, is he dead??_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Bruce Lee is! Now if you excuse me, my mentor is here._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Mentor? Karate~?_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Haha, not that for this one! It’s just Shannan Isaac, the famed prosecutor I’m training under right now._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Oooomg Larcei’s hot cousin. How luckyyy >.< arrest me Seliphhh so we meet! Haha!_

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Creative idea :P But I’m training to be a defense attorney to help people get the justice and dignity they deserve :) I’m never actually interested in putting people in handcuffs._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You are sooo noble~! ^^ Alriiight good luck lololol._

 **_schalphy  
_ ** _You too. My coffee will wait for you! :D_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ahhh speaking of that! Can you please make caramel frappe for me and um, an extra cappuccino? ^^ I figured cappuccino will not be as sweet, so…_

I can’t believe I’m feeling a bit shy to tell Seliph as well…

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Oooh alright! Hey, how about this. Give me a miss-call when you’re close. In a hurry?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ummm, I’m taking a friend but he’s too courteous to receive anything >.< sorry for troubling you._

 **_schalphy_ ** _  
Now now, aren’t you so kind :D alright Lene here’s my number, hold on…_

I end my conversation with Seliph.

_Seliphhh it’s Lene!! XX._

_Yes! Hello :D And yes it’s me. Saved!_

Ah, good! Now we have each other’s number. And this should make communication easier, if Seliph does have something… juicy for me to know. Ahem. I doubt Seliph likes to telltale, but you know, just in case. After all Tirnanog is still one of my life lines. Why wouldn’t I like befriending Seliph? He really is a kind and decent person, and good friends are all you need in world when your life is… well, unfortunate.

I head to the sports hall afterwards.

I have some time before my classes start, so why not rehearsing the choreography I’ve planned in mind for the Thracian girls? This is for _Girls on Top_ by Boa Kwon I discussed on Saturday, because chances are if they are going to reuse _Battlefield,_ they are going to fit the previous movements and forms that there will not be much for me to tweak. But _Girls on Top_ is entirely my idea, and I’m determined to make this spectacular besides people will come and go during break time. So yeah, let’s capture their fancy! Let’s make heads turn—while still bringing the most important message about empowerment. Yeeeaaah~! Let’s build a team of a fearless dignified girls~!

I felt so bummed that I did not pack extra equipment on me today, thinking I need to do much that I don't want to waste time changing clothes or cluttering my bag. So today I only have a midi-length dress on me. It’s in yellow color with printed gray floral petal motifs… yeah, _again,_ floral motifs. Sue me. I like this dress’ flutter short sleeves, since not only this one also screams summer, but feeling the warm breeze touching the sleeves and make them flap is somehow kind of… hashtag aesthetic, don’t you think~? Besides, this dress may be of midi-length with it going under my knees, middle-calf.

But still! It’s actually pretty airy, and there is a short, short slit at one of its side to form an elegant tailoring. Even without the slit, it’s not actually that form-fitting or body-hugging as the dress can be stretched similarly like an A-line one can, albeit not as wide. For short, with the design being like this, I can move nicely in it still. Yeah~! You know what’s missing when people kept saying they wanted a dress cute enough to bewitch a man but also good enough that you can kill a man in it? The dress does not need to be short in order for it to allow flexible movements! Long dress you need to flip and tie around your waist? Nooo. Basic lesson applies, lovelies~ know your size, but know what’s most comforting for you to wear~! How are you going to be an effective assassin if your dress gives you a hassle~?

… Again, hello there, FBI Man spying on my laptop. I assure you, I’m a beauty vlogger, not an assassin.

Anyway, this dress is cute. I feel my mood improves somehow…

So I quickly make a braid on my sides before gathering both ends to form a ponytail. If I’m going to do choreography, I want to be trouble-free and that includes my ponytail to not giving me a hard time. If I did not have enough time to restyle my hair or comb it, perhaps I should just let the ponytail loose with these little two braids hanging at the sides? Hehe, that sounds pretty cute~!

… But what if my hair obeys me this time and I don’t get to let it loose to showcase the braids? Aha, I’ve got the solution—take photo first before I style the hair into a ponytail, of course~!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _This is going to be a ponytail in a sec but look I looove my dress and I’m gonna test a planned choreo at the sports hall so have a glimpse of me in loose hair and little side braids~! :P_

Posted. Vain Lene is vain~? Whatever, I’m feeling cute today, and I don’t want to leave the house with the same lingering bad mood like prior! Besides, again, my dress is sooo cute and the whole world has to know about it, heheh. My phone quickly vibrates new notifications, but I want to reach the sports hall as soon as possible.

Locking the phone and banishing it into the abyss of my bag, I quickly take my leave, circling around Jugdral-U’s front area to the sports hall. Passing the Maera Hall on the way, somehow I feel rather nostalgic. Back then everything felt so nice. Ares and I exchanged jokes, but he was also… gentle.

N-not to say he is not as of now or recently, but…

… Can it be that I’m actually like…longing? Like I want that to happen again? Can’t be, right?

H-haha, if I want to relish it, sounds like he has to sketch another blueprint and it has to be sooo good to make it to Maera. Besides, why do I want that to happen again? Because…

Because he brought me and even treated me to a VIP seat? Like…

… Because he let me to experience his life with him and even accepted my food?

Perhaps all I want is simply acceptance from Ares. Now, the question is… why? Hnnn. Too early to be confused. This is weird. Sports hall, sports hall…

… Ah, but Ares is not there when I get to the sports hall…

I take out my phone again, checking the last text I received from him. He said he was at the sports hall? Can it be that he is in the locker room? Maybe. But I don’t want to… peek in uninvited! Uh-oh. I—I don’t mean that I will do so, deliberately, at an invitation. Besides, who knows? W-what if I walked up into him… _naked_. Aaaah! I can’t imagine it! W-what if he showed up before me... bare-chested, exposing his strong shoulders and shaped abs. E-especially if he’s like… sweaty after a workout… in those lightweight white cotton pants…

I slap my own forehead. I said I could not imagine that, brain, geez, why did you give… ideas?!

Should I ask Ares where he is… or should I… not?

Empowerment. I will not! Meh, besides, I did not even ask where he was! And not my fault if he is not where he said he was! ….

… Maybe I should just ask. What’s wrong with me?! It’s just a meet-up as always—I want to dump these questionnaires on him, I want to grab him to Tirnanog to treat him to coffee which sadly is still cheaper than what he got me on Saturday. And perhaps if he chit-chats Seliph, he won’t be so sour about him anymore, perhaps~? World peace! And then I’ll be saving Jugdral-U from a lion demon’s wrath! Where’s my Nobel prize nomination?!

H-hnnn. Okay, stop thinking of… wild, weird things, Lene. Let’s just get to the choreography.

As always, I set my phone on record. Well, considering music player will mute when camera or recording is in use, I guess I don’t have any chance but vocalizing the song myself. Hmmm, doesn’t sound too bad, actually. I can gauge the beats needed to count how many steps or movements I’ll need to conduct a form.

“Hi, this is Lene~! Here are some ideas for my cool, badass pupils~!” I speak to my camera. “First thing first, lovelies, of course, don’t forget stretching. Anyways, I haven’t checked for my Instagram again, so this is a _thank you in advance_ note in case anyone there commented about my dress. I love it too~!”

After a wink, I hop backward, stretching my arms upward as I typically do. Arms done, I move to squat a bit, holding it in a counted time before testing a split. The slit cut of the dress does allow me to, but I guess I won’t do that in case I tear it.

I make a one-leg stretch. The airy dress flips a bit and it almost, almost slaps me in the face like an open umbrella, but thankfully I manage! “Oops,” I smile at my camera again. “Sometimes things happen. You see, I’m a dancer and I’m not perfect. And that actually motivates me to keep going~! So my girls who want to keep dancing, do not be discouraged! Some days your legs will feel numb. Some days you may get frustrated, but listen—none of you are bad or stupid, and some days it will be so fun you forget you ever want to stop. Like me today~!” I smile again.

_It's the point of no return, there are lessons that you've got to learn  
Imma give it to ya, take it up higher_

I hum, testing my vocalization as I move. I decide I’ll do something else rather than copying or taking some moves from the actual dances Boa Kwon did in her music video. Besides, this is going to be a four-people dance, teamed and showcasing each girl’s individuality at the same time. In the music video, it was just Boa and her background dancers. I want the girls to shine equally!

“So, from here, Karin can make an entry, and I picture you will be doing... this…” I make a motion of a half cartwheel, considering my dress. “And from the other side as Karin moves, Tinny, you can…” I stretch my leg again to convey a somersault. “And in the center, we have Sara!” I twirl as if I’m attending a ballroom dance. “These aren’t final, just some ideas to brainstorm! See you later, girls!”

I smile for the last time for the recording session, retrieving my phone back and turning off the camera. Did that for about ten minutes, but the video lasted only about five minutes. That’s just how I do most of my Instagram recording—short simple videos, and I usually edit the longer ones like the makeup testing ones to accelerate them before I upload it on Instagram.

Now that recording is complete…

Ares is still not here. Whatever then. I decide to stroll into the bathroom first to unwind and repowder my face. I have a compact I keep with me, and even if the movements appear simple, they actually made me sweat. Perhaps the same can be said about martial artists?

I’m halfway done—just patting my cheeks with tissues and I’ll be good for the rest of the day. That is when I hear something… alright, _some things,_ from the sports hall. Like some people are using the mattress I previously used, I guess. And I’ve been at the backside of the room to hear anyone entering.

For a moment, I feel rather uneasy. I almost got assaulted here, taken off guard when I did my workout. I hope this isn’t the same group, because… if they were here when I was, I fear they are also a regular sports hall user…

… Well, I am not ‘almost got assaulted’—that creep did touch me.

Hnnn. If only I was a little bit… stronger? A little bit more… intimidating? But why do I have to have something under my belt in order for men not to touch me like that?! I shouldn’t be a blackbelt in order not to get assaulted!

I tip-toe around, still. There is no such a thing as being too careful. Like Ares said prior—he did not begrudge ladies for taking security measures. I wish other men would be like that…

Ares again. Sigh. Perhaps he passed by a church and got purified, for all I care! Uuugh!

… Ah, right, there are two people on the mattress! Looks so intense, with all the blouse-grabbing and rolling around like that. W-wew. God—t-they are not going to do… _that_ … here, aren’t they? B-besides, this is so rough!! Uh-ummm, m-maybe someone will get hurt. G-god forbid it’s the lady w-who…

“Um…” w-what should I do? How awkward. Tell them to get a room? Throw a broomstick at them?

“Again!” I nearly jump on my toes when I heard that. A male voice, sounding so demanding and rough.

“Get ready!” his female counterpart bellows at him. Oh, she is equally fierce as well!

“I’m not losing this time,” the man states.

“You hit hard, but you need to be wary of getting grappled,” his female counterpart responds.

“Really? What a shame. I guess I’m rustier than I thought.”

“Well, I grapple better than you do,” the lady says with an unconcealed pride in her tone.

“That is for certain,” the man chuckles. “I’ll try again.”

Oh, dear, do my eyes _bulge_ when I see him grabbing his female counterpart like that. W-what was he thinking, taking on a woman that way?! He quickly moves around, throwing a punch at her. She appears to be startled, but recovers that she gets a hold of herself—spinning around, taking him at the waist, clutching on his pants line like her life depends on it. Her bun starts to get messy, and I can’t help but wondering how long she’s been in this… I don’t know, fight?—against him.

She gets a firm hold of him by his belt, and I can see that he is trying to dissuade her—he appears of wanting to warp his way about her, probably to drop his weight on her back so he can throw her down. But she swiftly turns around, putting one of her legs against his; the one he positions at his inner side. And I can only _stare_ when she tries to hook his leg from there; her hands are still at his waist.

Oh—my—God. Oooh Lord!

He shouts a… I don’t know, battle cry? He seems to put more power on his legs, because his abdomen contracts. I can’t believe what appears to be simple actually succeeds bouncing his female counterpart like that. She loses her firm grasp against his waist, and he quickly tries to gain control by locking her arm back now that she can no longer hold him like prior.

I did not realize I’ve been watching them from afar. I’m clutching on the wall beside me, totally amazed by everything I’m seeing. The lady tries to free the arm her male counterpart took. She wiggles around him, and suddenly jumps to catch his head, headlocking it with her thighs. He gasps for a second, trying to balance his footing because she aims to throw him to the ground. Positioning his leg, he hooks his right one against her ankle to unbalance her before she gets to secure her grip against him.

“You can’t,” I hear the lady taunting him.

“Then let me try,” her male counterpart responds, backtracking behind her to clutch her waist, and…

… T-that one just now… a suplex! A perfectly executed suplex he made brings down his female counterpart onto the mattress, releasing her headlock over his neck. But not wanting to give up yet, his female counterpart rolls around, swiftly switching position that the legs which previously captured his neck shift into locking his arms by fencing his collarbones instead.

“Here you go!” she shouts, grappling him. The move successfully throws him against the mattress, and he groans, panting heavily as she does.

“Gods,” the male counterpart mutters, picking himself off the mattress to assume a sitting position. “That was terrific. Either I’d get choked to death or come out alive with broken shoulders.”

“Yeah, it took a lot out of me just to escape you too,” she responds, steadying her breathing as well. “You’re fucking strong. Glad that you still are, though.”

Now that he is seated and both fighters have stopped trying to maim each other with their bare hands, I can see them clearly. Oh—good Lord, that can’t be, right? B-because… because it’s Ares. He is now inhaling deeply, his tall posture makes it as if he’s sprawling on the mattress since his legs are stretched on the front. Beside him, the lady who previously fought him is resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’ll need to readjust,” Ares speaks to her.

“Yeah, good idea. I’m out of breath myself,” the strong lady gets up. They both get into a standing position again, with Ares balling his fists by the waist and the strong lady clasping her hands over one another like a meditating position—except she is standing.

They exhale and inhale with a pattern but going about their own rhythm. While the lady appears to inhale deeply with her eyes closed, Ares does something different as he inhales with the nose and exhales through the mouth, like he is keen to swallow the universe around him.

After some counts, they stop. And it is right when the lady turns around so I can get a clearer look of her—she’s got a gentle look on her face, her beautiful lustrous light brown hair is worn into a bun—a messy one that is, considering the… I don’t know, heavy workout—a match, a sparring—a… fight?! She just had against Ares.

And that lady is Altena.

Right, the architecture senior, Leif’s sister I had the chance to meet at Maera Hall. The lady who presented a skyscraper model suitable for mountain living as she aims to improve the living quality at the highlands surrounding the Thracian district.

Ares just went all-out in his sparring against Altena…

They seem to be friends, if not close acquaintances if he just casually sparred with her like that. And she definitely is someone he respects, judging from the way he talks to her. Of course it’s Ares—taciturn and deadpanned as he typically is. But he is transparent of his praises for Altena…

… I mean—of course Altena definitely deserves all these compliments coming her way. First thing first, she is probably the only person… _lady_ … who could take down Ares like that. And they could go all-out while staying amiable, like she is not in his shit-list, and neither is he in hers. Just two people sparring against each other, and it’s so clear that he admires her as a person and not just her strength.

There is a tingling… pang in my chest somehow.

What did I think prior? Someone pretty, someone smart—someone older and possibly a college senior. Someone who can kick ass. Altena definitely fits all the description, and oh—yes, someone he respects and bows his head to. I mean, I _know_ having the literal ability to kick ass shouldn’t be the sole requisite to respect women. I mean, there is this thing when people seem to conveniently throw women under the bus while at the same time claiming to respect them; as if that woman only gets to be badass if she displays unfeeling tendencies or supposed traditional masculine traits. You don’t know what each woman has to sacrifice out of her person in order to navigate this world…

Ah, I’m rambling. What is Ares doing now… huh, bowing? And Altena does the same.

Literally, they are bowing to each other even now! He fixes the waistband encircling his comfortable charcoal-colored chino pants (I won’t be surprised if he has many pairs of that with similar dark colors!), looking so pleased even though Altena landed the last blow. Meanwhile Altena let her hair loose; in my eyes it’s like a budding flower which blossoms beautifully in slow-motion. Strands of her beautiful long brown hair sprawl to frame her face, and for a reason I can’t fathom, I feel rather… sad?

I mean…

I know Altena is pretty. A dying triceratops can even tell you that! … I guess.

But like, I never really frame her beauty in my mind until today, not until I see her getting all sweaty and _badass_ rolling against Ares in… various positions over the mattress—

—I don’t know what I’m thinking, honestly. To tell you the truth, there is not even one single atom in my body that will succeed making me to _hate_ Altena. But at the same time, I feel so bummed. Like there is this sudden realization of not being able to be as strong as Altena, to rival Ares like that. To be someone he speaks and treats with adoration. And probably not the kind of person he has to make sure of getting home safely or offers a ride home. Not someone he needs to tell to call on him when being left alone in an uncertain open place where creepers usually take as a PvP zone.

Not someone he has to… babysit…?

I don’t think Ares calls Altena rabbit. And he probably won’t. If he should call her a nickname, I’d bet my chances a dragon will suit her better. And it does. A cool person, someone charismatic with an actual skill to back her up. And my latest adventure? Nearly damaged my knees trying to suplex Ares at the mall even if we both knew it was only a joke. If it was Altena, she probably succeeded.

What a bummer. Not that Altena is annoying. I just feel so bummed somehow.

“You sure you don’t want to try taking the ring again?” I’m startled because I hear Altena speaking. Ring? Again—ring? I’ve heard of this ‘ring’ a couple of times now. And Altena apparently knows about it too?

“… Well,” Ares shrugs, but his eyes are miles away.

Altena pats him on the shoulder gently. “Jugdral-U needs its crusaders again, Ares.”

“Leif can do that,” he ponders. “And—well, that son of a bitch Seliph can.”

Such strong language… to talk about… Seliph? The nice, nice and soft Seliph?

“Ares,” Altena pats him again. “Please. You know my cousin isn’t…”

“Don’t push me, Altena,” he growls when hearing that. “Altena—in the name of anything holy, I don’t hate you,” he quickly adds. “But more or less, you are still a Chalphy.”

“Now that breaks my heart,” Altena replies, staring on the ground.

“Convenient, isn’t it?” Ares responds bitterly. “Because it’s just your heart, not your neck.”

H… huh?

“… Ares,” Altena softly nudges him, but he gently swats her touch away.

… Hold on—he evaded her touch?

“I’m sorry, Altena,” there is this… gritting way in the way he replies to her. It is as if words are laying over a field of roses, getting stabbed by the thorns here and there that they bleed slowly, excruciatingly slowly that their bones writhe in agony. “Lest you forget, it was not like I took myself out of the ring.”

Altena shakes her head softly, looking incredibly disappointed. “I’m going to change.”

“Yeah,” Ares glances somewhere. He is still miles away…

“Please think about it, though,” Altena speaks again, heading to the locker room. O-oh, what to do? I need to hide or act like I was just in the bathroom that I did not see or hear anything!

“Altena?” Ares calls when she is halfway leaving him.

“What?” Altena turns around, looking… ashy.

“… Thank you,” Ares nods at her—no, he is _bowing._ “You’ve been a great help and I appreciate it.”

Altena has such gentle look in her eyes—a sad, sad one, however. It’s like she understands that Ares must have said that with similar sadness if not even more, and such emotion transcends to her that her own is close to overwhelm her. “Fix your grappling, Ares.”

“I will. Thank you,” Ares smiles faintly, taking the towel he dumps on his backpack. He starts to wipe his face and neck with it, looking rather sad that it is as if he visualizes each wiping to also restore himself back to… normal. One wipe over another, with his sad eyes slowly return to… being flat. Like a wounded lion trying to hide away his pain, treading the forest with his head held high to keep his dignity intact…

Meanwhile Altena is heading my way. She looks surprised to find me, and I pray that she does not suspect me overhearing their conversation. “Lene?” she blurts out my name, her eyes widened.

“Hiii~!” I wave at her, smiling. “Wow. A heavy workout?”

“Why didn’t you just come out?” her eyes narrow a little bit.

“Don’t wanna disturb!” I let out a small giggle. “You are reeeaallyyy strong.”

“Probably,” she responds, but that melancholic vibe stays. Dammit, I failed.

“Yeah!! You know what, if I didn’t know it was just you and Ares, I would have thought… someone was getting… you know… assaulted…” I pray again that she did not catch me shuddering. “I probably can’t break spines like you do, Altena, but I was close to throw my bag at him. Well, didn’t know it was Ares!”

Her eyes light up a little bit. Have I entertained her? “That is so sweet of you, though. Really, you aren’t trained but you are determined to jump into my rescue like that?” just then her eyes flash a mischief. “Heyyy, nerd!! Your VIP is in the bathroom with me.”

“VIP?”

“Very Irresistible Princess?”

“Wrong number. Die.”

“Alright, darn it, it’s Lene! Right? Your name is Lene, right?” Altena grins at me.

“Eh—yes,” I bob my head.

I can hear a thud sound.

“… Oh,” finally, Ares’ voice follows. “Hello, rabbit.”

“Uh—are you alright there, Ares?”

“Yeah. Just dropped my backpack accidentally. Condolences to my toe, though.”

“Haha, serves you right to call me that!” I chuckle.

“A rabbit, he said,” Altena _smirks_ now. “Sorry, Lene, but you are my hostage now. Interesting! Someone who neutralized _my_ grip accidentally dropped his backpack just because he heard your voice? It’s still fun to poke that brick wall every so often,” she giggles along, “at a safe distance, though.”

“But Ares is a cute cub and he doesn’t bite~!” I chuckle again.

“Want me to?” says the cooing voice from the other side. “Altena, first warning—leave her alone.”

“Y-you’re listening?!”

“Were you, rabbit?”

N-now I can’t answer that.

“Or what, nerd?” Altena smirks at me again. “This is ladies’ bathroom. A natural fortress.”

“Then I’ll just smoke the dragon out. Hostage with hostage—I’m going to kidnap Leif. And you know I’m not going to be so merciful towards that hair-eating brother of yours, he teased me often.”

Altena sighs, purposefully making it loud enough to be heard outside. “Dammit,” she grumbles. “Alright, alright. Walk free, Lene.”

“Thank you!” giggling softly I make a muscle-flexing gesture at her. “But seriously, you’re strong.”

Altena smiles. “You are stronger, I suppose.”

“Huh? I don’t understand…”

“Doesn’t matter, right?” she smirks again, jokingly pushing me out. “Now tame the lion, rabbit!”

“Copyright infringement, Altena,” Ares speaks.

“Then requesting for permission,” Altena chuckles as she begins to undress, changing the old t-shirt she wore to spar Ares into a beautiful frill-sleeved white blouse.

“Sincerely denied.”

“Sigh,” Altena takes a comb out of her bag. “Okay then. Bye, Lene.”

“I’ll smack him, I promise,” I pat her shoulders. “Any tips to land a successful suplex?”

“Take him off guard. Unbalance him but don’t let his weight drop on you.”

“Will castration do?”

“Splendidly,” Altena nods in a solemn manner. “Hey, mind if I add your Instagram as well? Leif said you do makeup reviews. I’m busy, so that will definitely save my time shopping!”

“Of course I don’t mind!” I take out my phone. “Is this you… _@gaebolg_ , isn’t it?”

“Oh, you kept tabs on me?” she now flashes a dragon-grin at me! Aaa—

I clear my throat. “There, added.”

“Oh, Lene,” she shakes her head again, but her eyes twinkle. “Get out, now.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I nod, feigning my escape from her. She chuckles in front of the mirror, fixing her hair.

“Yes, laugh, Altena. What a way to invite a manifesting bathroom ghost,” Ares taunts from the outside.

“Bathroom ghost doesn’t do judo,” Altena responds with a yawn. “So, whatever. Try harder, buttercup.”

I can hear Ares’ sincere chuckles outside. Seems his mood improves, then. I wave my hand at Altena, who jokingly pushes me outside and acts like she’s about to slam the door at my face.

“Oops,” Ares gently catches me. “Good morning, rabbit.”

“Umm…” there are so many things I wanted to ask him—like my clouded thoughts, my questions about him. But somehow they easily evaporate when he smiles like that…

“Yes?”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because I know,” he chuckles faintly. “Alright, where do we go from here?”

Huh? He wants to spend time with me? Oh—right. The _may we talk_ text I did not respond. But good idea if he wants to tail me around, then. It’s time for him to face off his… fears, I guess. I need Tirnanog because I promised Seliph I’d drop by to talk, considering this exciting secret announcement he told me.

“Some coffee,” I quickly grab his arm before he can react.

“Coffee,” he repeats. “I’m not sure if the milk tea stand at the southern parking lot has it.”

“No, Ares,” I smile at him. “Tirnanog!”

“… Tirnanog, the one near Crusader’s Ward?”

His tone sounds… firmer now. “Mm-hmmm. Scared?”

It feels rather cheeky, asking him that because admittedly, _I am_ , a little bit. Maybe because I overheard how venomous and bitter his tone was when he talked about Seliph with Altena. But hey, I can pretend I did not hear anything. At this rate I think Altena and I understand that I know I suspect Altena might have suspected me overhearing them, but since she did not say anything… hmmm, perhaps she trusted me. I hope so. Or she hopes I can fare better in handling Ares where she failed. I’m not going to be Ares’ fixer, but Seliph is nice, and if Ares is sad, then I’m all ears. I want to help. And I’m pretty confident I can be impartial.

“No,” he nearly scoffs when responding. Well, he still has his manly ego, huh?

“Then let’s go there,” I take his arm again, as if making sure he’s not going to run away. The way he declined my invitation when he sent me at my door on Saturday, somehow flashes in my mind again… “And perhaps we can study. With you around, I can discuss my landscape art paper. Forseti merely approved the topic, so I’ll still need to work on that! And he wants to present our papers, so it will be nice to make kickass additional notes~!”

“Alright,” he answers simply.

“… You don’t like Tirnanog, do you?” I ask him, softly.

“Admittedly I don’t,” he replies firmly.

He yields so easily like that? Like—he’s going simply because I want to go there? “Then I’ll protect you!” giggling, I poke him in the ribs. “Nobody shall ever touch you when I’m nearby!”

“You just did, rabbit.”

“Huh… ah, crap. Now it cancels itself,” grumbling, I withdraw my fingers from his ribs. “But all jokes aside, I do want to make you comfortable too! Well—God knows what beef you have against Tirnanog…”— _or Seliph,_ I add in silence—“… but I won’t turn blind eye when people give you a hard time just because you show up. So what if you want some coffee? Even lion demons want their coffee too!”

“… I see.”

Huh? Is it just me or his eyes light up like snowy plains getting awakened by a gentle sunrise? “And it goes both ways sometimes, you know,” I feign a grumpy tone, sticking my tongue at him. “That you can still try to make peace with Tirnanog or even confront your problem while getting your coffee there. Because sometimes you don’t need to slam the door shut forever out of a single annoying guest.”

“… Hmmm.”

“Why, brooding again,” I playfully whack his head with my purse. “Come on, Ares~! The coffee bar has its own loyal devotees, you know~? At this hour I imagine people will be queuing.”

“… No. I was right after all,” he glances around where the sun shines.

“Hnnn? Why, it’s getting warmer and warmer, before we know it, the sun will scorch us alive again,” teasing him, now I tick his nose. “Oh—right. You’re an alleged demon. Afraid of burning?”

“Haha, no,” he smiles gently like he’s so satisfied. “It’s just warm for me.”

“Warm?” I frown a little bit. “Well it is! Hehe, then let’s hurry, because what if you get purified?”

He did not protest when I grabbed his arm and clung onto it.

* * *

  

Somehow, Ares still has that gentle smile on him as we walk to Tirnanog. Like it’s there, crowning his lips, through all the steps we make and all the turns we take. Wow, this is so aesthetically pleasing. I mean, my dress is cute, the sun is warm, and some small little grass flowers are blooming here and there around the park. Tirnanog is really close to the engineering faculty, with the STEM section of Jugdral-U just at the corner. While Ares probably isn’t going to fit in the colorful aesthetic frame because of his black pants and V-shaped-collar sea blue shirt, everything still feels… nice…

… I’ve been strolling around the park with Ares at my side. He sighs, sounding so satisfied and relieved as if he’s never done that for nearly half of his life. And he does not budge even though technically I’m still taking his arm hostage, even though that gesture on its own happened out of our typical banter. Admittedly, this feels nice somehow. Not to mention how beautiful the nature around me is.

This lion cub too, is not at all ugly despite my constant teasing of his fashion choices…

“Something on your mind?”

“Ah! Eh—um, why?” I jolt when I hear his voice. “Y-you want to make fun of me for screaming again, I suppose.”

“Tempting, yes,” he chuckles. “But I’d rather hear that than hollow silence.”

“Really, now?” I poke him again. “How did you think I had something in mind?”

“You stopped holding my arm.”

Eh…

“My arm, my prerogative, Ares,” I copy his tone, feigning sulking.

“Is the hand taken then?”

“What?”

“… You heard that.” For a moment he looks surprised, like he did not think he actually blurted it out. He clears his throat, withdraws a bit from me… what happened?

“You asked—if my hand was… taken?”

“Yes.”

Huh? Why is his face red out of a sudden? “Nope~! But don’t eat it. I know you’re a lion demon.”

“… Dear, dear rabbit.” What, he is now _laughing!_ But it’s not the kind of HEHEHEH laughter like you know he will get back at you after this. It’s tender, as if all parts of his face equally _shine_ when he does that. Hmmm, but this is Ares. Not a seared steak!

“Suspicious,” I pat his cheek with my palm. “Maybe I should suplex you again.”

He is silent for a while. And unexpectedly… “Do you want to do it?”

“What?” G-God, that question with that tone with a straight face!

“If someone lunges at you,” he points at my palm still reigning insolently on his cheek, “sometimes the best way is to follow the course instead of rejecting it. You come at this direction, I’ll just follow,” he takes my wrist, swaying it forward just as the way my hand landing on his face.

“Right, right. What’s next… waltzing?” that was obviously a joke, but he smiles a little.

“… Not a bad idea.”

“Hnnn~ Really? Can you dance?” I tease him again. Ares… waltzing… with me? At a ballroom? Hahaha, why, I’m Lene the pauper. Not a Disney princess. … But if he’s a lion king, then…

“Not at all,” he grins sheepishly. “But I can _move_. Like here, you twist,” he applies what he says on me.

“Ngggh—yeah, i-it does… sting.”

“Exactly. And supposedly, someone grabs you,” he takes my wrist again. “Look at the way my fingers clasping your wrist. This is the typical move, right? Usually, people don’t think much when they do this. Because this is basic, and we react just as naturally. But there’s a dent around these five fingers holding you—the area between the thumb and index finger has the weakest defense, so don’t pull, but twist your wrist inside the grip around that part until it loosens.”

“Show me,” I nudge him. “See, I’m a dancer. Demonstration works better than all the talks.”

“Take my wrist,” he points at my idle hand.

“Ooo~kay,” I do as he says, taking his wrist. “This doesn’t give a real-feel, though. First thing first, your hand is bigger and your wrist is wider...”

“Doesn’t matter,” he twists in my grip. “See, the twist is heading to where your thumb and index finger are. This way it will loosen the power and disrupt the balance.”

“Then I wanna try it on my own,” I suggest. “Fight me.”

“Can’t,” he replies simply. “... Don’t wink.”

“Try, I said,” and of course, I wink. Who does he think he is, to give me a no?

“Alright,” he yields. “Now twist around.”

“Twist, right?”

“… Lene.”

“Hnnn~?”

“Not that kind.”

“You said twisting around!” I laugh because… yes, I twist. Under it. The accidental waltzing—not in a regal ballroom, but some beautiful park on a fine morning. He looks so incredibly sheepish and awkward; his cheeks are _flaming_ red and he tries not to look at me! Nevertheless he still lets me do whatever I please, including all the twist and turn I do under his hand, with him still grasping my wrist as a remnant of what is supposed to be a self-defense how-to. “Ares, you’re going to stand idly like that?” giggling, I poke him in the ribs again. “Do something. I can just keep going on and on~! Dancing is my forte.”

“Then... what should I do next?” he asks awkwardly. Haha, my, he really can’t dance?

“Hold me?” I tease him. “Like you place your hand here around my waist?” that was probably too daring, and I need to check myself whether I’ve got a death wish, taunting the alleged lion demon like that. I do not hate myself _that_ much that taunting Ares is on top of my list to have my lifespan cut by a half in case he is going to shoot one of those legendary death stares he has in his collection. But then again, hashtag YOLO. You only live once, and why wouldn’t I spend some minutes of my life taunting Ares? Perhaps he’s going to sulk since he seems to be close to giving up glaring at me, but I’m also evil.

“Hmmm. Need to pass. Too dangerous.”

“Dangerous? But Ares…” I expected a glare, or him sulking like a cat. But… dangerous?

“Lene, I’m not going to suplex you like I did Altena,” he says, flatly, oh-so-seriously, with that legendary deadpan tone and taciturn expression! Oooohhh my—GOD! “Nor will I throw you down. Can you roll? But like, army-rolling kind of rolling? Throwing yourself and spring out like a pouncing tiger?”

I’m too flummoxed to say anything else, so I simply—shake my head.

“See, so no.”

“Ooooh dear gods. Ares—“ I can’t hold it any longer. This nerd, I swear to God—how did he do it? Filling my head with thoughts in the morning and at night, and completely obliterates all the analyses I’ve prepared beforehand? And even at this new level of… dumbness (thank you, Mrs. Nordion, for warning me beforehand at the grocery store!) he still manages to be… endearing. Why, this lion cub is indeed cute. So cute. So cute that I just want to hug him like I’ve got all these feelings in the world…

… Huh? What did I just think?

“Did I say something bad?” he scratches his head. “Wait—you’re… laughing?”

“Certainly so!” I throw my head back and forth, cackling like an evil witch in any fairytale you know. How could I not? And definitely his comment does not help. “Rest assured though, it’s not bad.”

But all these jokes, banters—and honestly, I don’t know what to call these interactions anymore at this point—take us closer to Tirnanog. As I expected prior, many people are still crowding the place, coming in and out with either a bread or a cup of coffee in their hands—and both. Meanwhile I see a few people are busy loading purchase crates and boxes. Perhaps the produces they ordered for the day are coming!

I take Ares deeper into the compound of Tirnanog. He reflexively opens the glass door for me, perhaps our experience at the Crusader’s Ward gym resurfaces just like that. Tirnanog has this minimalist interior dominated with ashy colors that it is bright during the day and does not require much lighting in the evening; if anything it follows a typical Scandinavian apartment design which exudes that cozy, airy feel instead of the typical somber gray shades other elegant bars and grills tend to have to bring out elegance. The ventilation allows fresh air to flow nicely inside and out, making the interior feels pleasantly warm but not like, scorching-hot warm. Nice little wooden chairs with cushions in various colors and shapes are neatly arranged around, making me feel like I’m in one of those comfortable wooden cabins usually pictured as an illustration for children’s story books.

Ares tails me around when I pick my favorite spot—the one nearing the window where the flower pots are. Of course he has to smirk upon noticing that the cushions for the chairs we occupy are in polkadot pink, but without making any comments worthy of mullet-yanking, he simply pulls a chair for me. We set our bags on the empty chairs, and I take out my phone to give Seliph a miss-call as promised.

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I’m at #Tirnanog #JugdralU cuuute cushions cute plants beautiful day~ ^O^_

Oh, a new follower? Altena really added me.

 **_gaebolg @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Awh you’re adorbz. Coffee?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Thx! <3 **@gaebolg** Yes!!_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _And the angry cardboard nerd? **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Still in one piece! =^^= **@gaebolg** Riiight, meow, **@anblacknight**?_

 **_heyimnotaplant_ ** _Y-you... bond with my sister… **@dancedancerebellion** … you’re SCARIER than **@friegish**_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _Pffft ‘meow’? Thought he was a cub? **@dancedancerebellion** and yeah Leif **@heyimnotaplant** die mad about it! MWAHAHAHA. Told you she’s my hostage **@anblacknight**_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Heheee technically it’s the same species! **@gaebolg**_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _Actually no, m’dear **@dancedancerebellion** let me break it down to you._

 **_gaebolg_ ** _… Who is this mansplaining sausage again? **@dancedancerebellion**_

I frown a little bit upon seeing that person, AGAIN, making a fool of himself on my account. Sigh. I’ll just block him later when I have the chance to have some actual Instagram time, considering there are responses to my other videos and posts which I haven’t checked. It is just that I happened to see Altena adding me so that I chatted her up there, and… God, I forgot to give Seliph a miss-call. Here goes then!

_Seliph, I’m here~! At my fav spot!_

I sent a follow-up text to Seliph, returning my attention to Ares, who still patiently waits on me being on phone. He seems to be adjusting—he’s been looking around from where we are seated, either reading today’s special menu inscribed on the blackboard at the counter or paying attention to his surroundings. Oh, right. This one is not supposed to be a human, so perhaps a lion’s spatial adaptability applies to him.

“Not ordering?” he asks then, starting to look relaxed because he throws his weight completely on the chair. I make a mental note to tease him because he’s sitting on a PINK cushion. Told you I’m evil!

“I’ve made it before we came. Ummm. Never seen you taken coffee before, so I thought I’d get you a cup of cappuccino. Tempted to get you a caramel frappe like mine, but what if you die since it’s sweeter?” I respond. “Anyway, I just got paid. So it’s on me this time~! Do you drink coffee?”

“I do,” he replies. “Why, just because you’ve never seen me naked doesn’t mean I don’t bathe.”

“Y-you…”

He smirks. With the kind of primal, raw leonine smirk I witnessed a couple of times prior. O-oh, I sense revenge. The cub wants a payback! “Cappuccino sounds fine,” he nods. “Ah, phone.” Right, it probably vibrated because Altena and I mentioned him! His smirk only grows wider as he checks. “You’re friends with Altena now? Stockholm syndrome, Lene.”

Hnnn. N-now that he brought it up… “Hey Ares, did you assign a nickname for Altena?”

He pauses. His eyes narrow at an instant, but the look is tender. “… Why, rabbit?”

“B-because.”

“Hmmm?”

“Aaah, turn away!”

“I’ve been wanting to. But odd that I couldn’t.”

“Ares.”

“Yes?”

“ARES.”

“Yes, rabbit?”

“S-stop making your voice huskier and softer each time you reply to me or we won’t speak!”

“You can text me,” he chuckles. “Oh, sorry. Exchanging Instagram direct messages.”

That finally earns him the first mullet-yanking of the day. “Well?”

“No,” he responds.

“No?” Really? That really is unexpected! “Really? No? Why?”

“No,” he replies, firmer. “And I don’t know. Never even thought of it.” So concise, so honest as always…

I was about to say something nice to him when my phone flashes and vibrates. Maybe Seliph is finally here. I’m a bit anxious if he is, what if Ares does not take it kindly to see him? Suddenly I remember the conversation he had with Diarmuid back, back then at the Crusader’s Ward—he has been evading Tirnanog like a plague because he knows Seliph works here and everyone who attends Jugdral-U frequents this place. And he said he did not want to look for trouble… _for now,_ he added then. D-does that mean that he and Seliph could literally exchange punches if the environment… allowed it?

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _Hey there gorgeous. You look pretty with your hair up and down regardless._

Euuggghhh, this one again, hrrrh! But I’m a bit relieved that it was not Seliph. I’m still confident enough that they won’t fight in front of me. But what if I’m… not there?

 ** _dancedancerebellion_  
** _Thank you I guess._

That should be curt enough. I don’t want to make my account private, it’s my livelihood.

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _Are you just playing hard to get then, Princess? See, a compliment brought you melt and rattle ;D_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I know compliment, thanks. What you sent so far are downright creepy._

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _  
I know you want me._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Dude… like, no offense, but no. I’m not interested, sorry._

I should not even say sorry for having the gall not to be romantically interested in just any man who sent me steamy—wait, no, _creepy_ texts, but here we go. Somehow no matter what it’s always the woman’s fault. Sigh, come on, society, we should be able to be better than this!

 ** _ratedexplicitonao3_**  
_Is it because you think I’m not your type?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _What_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _That blond-haired beast. Your type? Bad boy on a bike?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
See this is exactly why. Hey I’m blocking you, stop talking to me._

And Ares is not even ‘a bad boy on a bike’! Sigh.

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _Don’t be so cold. Can I have your number? I’m better once you get to know me._

If you can be better, why not making efforts to show me that you are?! No.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _And there you are still being like that. Let’s not waste each other’s time._

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _Oh, I know it. Bitches are the same, then cry over the same things. Just because you think I’m average, don’t you? I guess it’s right that women just want to be treated like shit then._

I’m going to vomit.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _First thing first perhaps stop assuming things about people you don’t even know. And you called me a bitch just now, really dude? Blocked in a sec._

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _You only have the face anyway._

Inhale, Lene, inhale… the blocking icon is just one tap away…

I was about to, but he sent me another message.

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _I know you’re in Tirnanog._

Yeah, I tagged it! And then?

 ** _ratedexplicitonao3_  
** _So perhaps we can grab tea or something. You have class after this, don’t you?_

Huh?

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _I’ve been following you closely anyway, your schedule is easy to guess._

… Wait.

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _You’re a regular sports hall frequenter, right?_

This is one of the dudes Ares argued with. So... campus creeper?

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Okay, who is this?!_

 ** _ratedexplicitonao3_**  
_Getting curious, babe? Based on your past posts seems you’re out at the park every Saturday morning._

Now this is unnerving.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You are creepy. Leave me alone, did you map my activity?!_

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _You geotagged, I only read the posts._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _This is making me uncomfortable, stop. My geotagging my own posts doesn’t give you a free pass._

 **_ratedexplicitonao3_ ** _  
Uncomfortable? Why, I can get you OFF, if you know what I mean ;)_

I want to block him, but… is he keeping a tab on me? Sounds like he knows what I’m doing and where I will be next. This is really unnerving. I only live alone with Coirpre and sometimes I am home late…

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _I’m so close to Tirnanog, you know. You’re not gonna turn down free drinks, are you?_

He is… here…? Will he really come to Tirnanog? He sounds like he did despise Ares, too. Even if he does not come for me right now, will he ever stop? What if I’m alone? The jock captain who startled me the other day—yes, the dude who approached me from a dark corridor like a mysterious weed seller—could just conveniently drag me away from the rest of the crowd like that. And he ~only~ wanted to do me a favor by warning me about Ares, apparently. Like even _if_ he hated me, it would not still be on the same level like he hated Ares… allegedly. At least he probably thought I was just dumb by spending my time with Ares, who was supposed to be this oooh-so-feeearsooome beast a naïve sophomore like me is clueless about.

But this one is different. This case is different. This dude slash creep is legit eying me. Like if he’s not determined to get me, then it seems he’s out to make my life miserable by all these advances he called niceties. And I know what will happen next—sob stories about him getting rejected by a supposed diva because he’s average. Yeah, even if that was _only_ what happened, why, can’t a diva fall for whomever she likes? Some men seem to operate on vending machine philosophy—that spending certain amount of coins should reward them with the drinks they want. Well, even if that is such—spending certain amount of coins _they thought,_ that is! Hnnn!

I stand to take a look outside, from the window at the side of our table. Is someone really watching me from afar and being a notorious creep about it? Really? I look on my screen again, rereading his messages sent to me. Smoothing my dress, I return to my seat.

From under my lashes, barricaded by my phone, I peek on Ares. He is unzipping his backpack, probably checking out his things before casually taking out a book— _Groundswell: Constructing the Contemporary Landscape_ by Peter Reed. His notebook with black leather cover which I saw in one of the photos he sent me then follows suit, and a blue marker with a pen are already inside when he opens it.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he breaks the silence between us. “I need to review. This book principally touches urban designing, especially regarding structures built out of degraded environment.”

He’s studying… I don’t really want to disturb him. He once said lately he did not have a time to read and he has been wanting to catch up with theories. And based on what he described about the book, sounds like it is exactly what he needs, considering his major and his magnum opus of Agustrian project.

“Of course! It’s your life, don’t apologize,” I nudge his hand from over the table softly.

He spares me a faint smile before returning to his book. “It’s okay if you want to study too.”

“Um, not exactly studying, but—here you go, the questionnaire for the kids,” I take out the file folder I’ve been carrying and hand it to him. “Gods, otherwise I’ll keep forgetting it.”

“I’ll just distribute them then?” he takes it from my hand, reading the first page the transparent file folder shows him. “… Hello Kitty motifs on the back?”

“I don’t tolerate Hello Kitty-shaming,” I yank his mullet.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, loading the folder into his own backpack.

“It should have been for Coirpre, but seems he hesitates…” I fidget with my phone. “So I’ve written down some explanations too to make it easy for you.”

“You are considerate. Thank you,” Ares responds simply.

“Uh—Ares?” I tug on his sleeve from over the table. “Is Coirpre alright? I mean…”

“He does need improvement,” Ares puts down his book. “Like he tends to be out of breath in a short time compared to the others. That is what I planned to ask—does he have… allergy? Asthma?”

“No,” I murmur. “Oh—gods. Can it be there’s something I need to know?”

“It’s just he looks like he tires easily lately,” Ares explains. “But he took everything I gave to the kids without hesitation. I don’t want to single him out so easily, but if by the end of this week it keeps happening, then I suppose it won’t hurt to have him checked.”

“Perhaps he won’t like it,” the thought of Coirpre getting sick without me knowing makes me sick too.

“He won’t,” Ares looks at me. “But what is necessary does not always mean it is going to be pretty.”

“… Hnnn,” I sigh. “Do you think he’s… sick?”

“Honestly I don’t,” he shakes his head in a reassuring manner. “Because there were chances when I spotted Ced helping him to drill his dribbling. I assigned Ced as a middle-fielder because he’s fast. I need that kid to be at the center, balancing the strikers and rear guards. There are some tough kids on the team, so my tactics so far leans on the offensive mode. If Coirpre could fix his stamina, he might make it to the main team as one of the rear guards. Defend and secure the penalty box before any opponent gets there, and pass the ball back to Ced. And based on what I heard and observed so far, Coirpre is fine. Is he a night owl, perhaps?”

Now that he mentioned it… and the Coirpre in my mind who tried to steal-borrow my makeup at two in the morning…  the really tired Coirpre last Saturday… “What if he overdid his drillings with Ced?”

“That is what I want to figure out in the next few days,” Ares nods again. And he succeeds again—his confidence, like he truly knows what he’s doing or talking about—is comforting. “I’ll make sure he takes your questionnaire because that way we can see what is lacking too. Kinesiology magic?”

“I hope,” I purse my lips. “Thank you, Ares.”

“No need. I’m the coach. He’s also my responsibility,” he pats my hand and resumes reading.

_Ah, sorry, the warehouse needs me! Lester will be there shortly._

Seliph’s text came in. I secretly breathe relief it wasn’t the campus creeper. Lester? Oh—I didn’t know Lana’s brother works here too. Maybe they switched and it’s now Seliph’s turn to be at the warehouse. Well, I’ll still need to talk to Seliph. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise indeed—if it was only Lester who showed up for us, then there would be a little chance for Ares to flash his fangs. If Seliph’s work at the warehouse took longer, then perhaps I’d just message him to talk about the news he informed me prior because I can’t wait here for forever, either.

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _When you let loose your hair it was so cute. Like a fresh green meadow I can plow :))_

Darn it, I forgot to block him! Block…

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _Is that you by the window, yellow dress? Fantastic, you’re inside, we can have a drink!_

H-huh?!

“Uh. … Ares?”

“Yeah?” he hums, scribbling something onto his notebook.

“D-did you really fight that Instagram user at the southern parking lot?”

“No. Chickened out like the little shit he was,” Ares shrugs mindlessly.

“Oh, alright.” … I can’t. I don’t have the heart to tell him. Cautiously, I stand up to peek outside, wanting to know the face of the man who stalks me.

… Stalking. I have a… a stalker now? I’ve got unsavory comments on my Instagram, even the ones that are just downright mean. I’ve got random male followers who left me compliments, then I’ve got random male followers who left me more than what I’d call a compliment. But someone who seems to pay attention to my activities does not happen often. If he seems to guess the pattern of what I’m doing—like where I’ll be and when, that does not sound… like a mere virtual annoyance anymore.

Or does he actually hate Ares but wanting to get back to him… through me?

 ** _dancedancerebellion_  
** _I’m not interested._

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _Probably not, with that angry blonde beside you._

My blood freezes. Is this supposed to be in a literal sense or just taunting me?

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You don’t understand, do you? Even without him, I’m not interested. Please give up._

I fiddle with my phone. Somehow I want to see the reply, and I’m less likely feeling like blocking him before I can confirm my suspicion. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, because in the end that campus creeper is not entitled to my person—or Ares’. But I don’t want to drag Ares into my problem…

 **_ratedexplicitonao3  
_ ** _Really? Perhaps because you just don’t know me yet. I can fix that soon._

This makes me feel uneasy. Is it wise to block him now because—if I can’t see him out in the open while he seems to pay attention to me, then it’s like fighting a faceless shadow. I don’t like this feeling. At least if he keeps his bullshit out, I can actually pay attention to him back and evade him.

But it doesn’t feel right, to have someone wanting me in a way which makes me feel… scared.

… Am I scared? Of a man—for the first time? I mean—I evade those who already gave me ~odd~ looks. But to actually confront the reality that one of them may pursue me like a prey is just…

“Lene?”

“Aaah!” out of reflex my knees slam hard against the table, with my elbow following suit. Oh—crap, I lost control of my phone since it flies at Ares’ direction. “I… s-sorry, and thank you.”

Ares has caught my phone just like he did in the library. And seems it dawns on him too, because the corner of his mouth twitches. “Déjà vu.”

“Perhaps,” I glance around awkwardly, trying to locate this campus creeper. Is he inside? Is he one of the customers? If he’s also attending Jugdral-U, the less likely he will be suspicious. I hate this. I hate this!

“Is something the matter, or is it about Coirpre again?”

“Um. Ares, did he… ever contact you? Personally?”

“He. Who?” o—oh great, he frowns now.

“The Jugdral-U guy you challenged into a fight?”

“Ah. Heh, not even a word,” he shrugs again. “And here is your phone…”

The screen is still on when he is about to pass my phone to me. And I really wish I could disappear at this point b-because… gods, Ares’ face slowly changes color. No, not the kind of pale-fright color change, but like… h-he is frowning. Like seriously frowning. Talk about those brooding gazes and mysterious air that barks _touch me you die_ surrounding him. I did not close the screen because I was startled. Did he… did he accidentally see the exchanged messages between me and that campus creeper?

“Ah—right! M-my phone,” I open my palm, laying it down under his nose.

Ares looks at me again. He looks like he’s about to say something, but ends up returning the phone.

I mumble a thank you. Deciding to check for one more time, I stand to take a glance outside. M-maybe I’m imagining things. He’s not going to jump-scare me like those horror movie scenes where the ghost just suddenly appears by the window out of nowhere, right? … Right?

Smoothing my dress again, I return to the seat. Why, Seliph and Lester are late, huh…

And just then Ares puts down his book. I thought he is going to write on his notebook like prior, summarizing his reading. But…

“Where is he?”

His voice startles me and I really, really bump my wrist against his side of the chair.

“Uh. Ummm—sorry about that! Accidental, I swear!”

“What did I tell you at groceries?” his tone shifts into something… gentler, but it was like this dagger-concealing gentleness; like some kind of wave slowly budding under the sea. Potent.

“Don’t be?”

He nods. “You apologized to me often…”

“I—see,” I murmur, rubbing the unfortunate wrist which just bumped against his chair.

“… Did he demand anything, Lene?” he asks then.

“Just… just my number,” I slide my phone to him. “You saw that, didn’t you?”

“Accidentally,” he concurs. “See, I should be the one apologizing.”

“Don’t want to disturb you,” I admit. “You look so peaceful, reading like that…”

He stops. And he has that kind look again when he speaks. “Back then I told you to just call out my name if anything happened,” he scans the messages I was sent to. “Just tell me. It’s okay.”

“I don’t want him to get back at you like that,” I scratch my head. “Besides! When we strolled here I did vow to protect you. No campus creeper shall touch my lion demon!” trying to tone everything down I roll one of my sleeves up, making a flexing bicep gesture in a joking manner.

“And neither shall one to my rabbit.”

“Eeeh?” I—didn’t mishear, right? D-did he just…

“If he wants me, I’m a good host and I’ll give what he deserves,” Ares calmly replies, but his serene manner barks… a threat. “But if he wants you, then I’m a _generous_ host. I’ll give what he _needs_.”

“Ares.”

“Did he ever touch you?”

“… Literally?”

He pauses. “Yes. Literally,” he repeats in a careful manner.

I shake my head.

“Alright. Now, to find the fucker.”

“Ares—no,” I quickly take his hand back over the table. “L-let’s not retort to violence. Um, yet.”

He pauses.

“Not this time?” I plead again.

He sighs. “… Very well.”

“Thank you,” I sigh too.

“But doesn’t mean I’ll sit idly. He wants a number, right?” his eyes light up, mischievously lights up… traces of leonine demeanor are now way, way clearly spelt on his face. “Then let’s just give it.”

“Giving him… my number?”

“Like hell,” he _grins._ “Mine.”

“W-whaaa—t?”

“Right. May I borrow the phone? Ah, thank you,” he keeps grinning as I hand the device to him, too surprised for anything else, yet too curious to say no. And types. And hands the device back to me with a satisfied… no, _sadistic_ grin on his face, like a predator knowing well the prey is trapped. And wow, he truly typed in his own number there!

… D-don’t ask me why I remember his number. Don’t.

He resumes reading like nothing happens. Alright, I got it—king of deadpanville, master of taciturnity, cardboard demon or what-have-you. B-but… this time? He simply hums, back to taking notes and highlighting some lines on the book he’s reading. However he puts his phone on the table, and I quickly seize it out of reflex when the screen flashes.

“Umm…” sheepishly, I return his phone to its rightful owner. W-why…

He only chuckles, though. “It’s okay. I don’t mind,” he says, checking on it. And… oh, boy, does he look so _giddy_ when he is at it. Like if he is not aware we are sitting in Tirnanog, he’ll be probably cackling madly that his laughter can tear the skies apart.

“Him?” I whisper.

“Yeah,” Ares merely smiles. “I’m so entertained.”

“You look deadly,” I point it out to him. “Like you have bloodlust.”

“I can do both and be both.”

“… Ares,” I bark a warning tone.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Of course I yank his mullet upon hearing that. Probably harder than usual, even. “What did he say?”

“Too moronic that I can’t help myself,” he replies. “But perhaps it’s best that you don’t see.”

“Oh. _That_ kind of ridiculousness,” I mumble. “… You’re  having fun, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he merely shrugs, but the big, shit-eating grin doesn’t leave his face. “Does this fucker think any lady will get turned on reading verbal diarrhea like this? At least think with the head, not the dick.”

I yank his mullet.

“Hold on, he wants to call me... you,” he corrects himself.

“For real?!”

“Yeah. Oh, he is calling…” Ares smirks at the phone.

“You said your phone is not an iPhone.”

“No.”

“T-then…” I throw my earphones at him, and he is more than gleeful to plug it into his phone. He puts his index finger over his lips, like warning me not to make a sound. I nod. And I hold my breath again when Ares takes the call.

Oh, gods. Like a broken canal this creeper starts opening fire with his steamy, steamy speeches. But instead of what is supposed to be ~exciting~ the things he said are utter garbage, like dirty disgusting slimy stains in a public toilet that can make your stomach churn.

“Your turn, babe,” says the guy on the other side, nearly making me to vomit in my mouth.

“My turn?” Ares casually mutters on the earphones speaker. And the voice at the other side stops at an instant.

“Who the fuck is this? Where is Lene?”

“Unavailable to speak to you.”

“… You must be joking.”

“I don’t joke about this,” Ares replies like he’s cooing… cooing which blasts murder threat. “Listen, asshole—she said no, so take it and move on. I don’t want to hear her being in distress just because some dipshit can’t control his dick thinking obnoxiously swaying it will send the girl into his arms. Got me?”

Then he ends the call. And I sigh. I sigh—probably too loud than usual. But Ares simply unplugs my earphones, returning them to me.

“Thank you,” I feel so weak at an instant. Like… the kind of weak the way you feel your energy is draining after spending a lot of it to survive a situation. “And that one ends bloodless too.”

“Well, I have the number in my phone now,” Ares grins. “That ends the adventure of the knave.”

“… Knave? Sigh, I know it, you really aren’t human. So, time-traveler old-age warrior… demonic entity… whatever species is it that you are! Who taught you to use a phone?” I poke his nose, but we need to stop joking when a figure approaches our table.

“Hello. Lene—my sister’s friend, isn’t it?” a guy smiles at me. He’s got a mature-kind of gentle look on his face, and his short blue hair shines under the lighting. “I’m Lester. I’ve seen you a lot here, but we hardly have the chance to talk since I usually work behind the curtain. Are you the one who ordered for a caramel frappe and cappuccino earlier?”

“Yes! And Seliph?”

Ares flinches. He grips his pen, but the book he is reading falls on the table, making a sound. I stretch my hand under the table, finding his left hand clutching on the chair. H-here we go. Is he _furious_ … or anxious? Perhaps both? Which makes me wonder even more, what did Seliph do to Ares? Or rather, what happened back then? Ares twitches at the idea of Altena mediating him with Seliph—and hold on, Altena and Leif are Seliph’s cousins. It’s almost like Ares _hates_ the entire bloodline of Seliph’s family! What is this, Romeo and Juliet’s style family feud?

… W-what if Seliph is only alleged human too, and these two time-travel and only to be cursed meeting again over an unresolved grudge and rivalry regardless of the era they are in?! Okay—baby-faced Seliph who actually does karate… “A little bit,” as he said. W-waaah, didn’t know my school is HAUNTED!!

I will interrogate either Ares or Seliph later, but first thing first…

I touch Ares’ hand from under the table. He startles, looking at me. I give him a tender smile, hoping to reassure him. And I pray it’s working because I can feel his demeanor shifts—his hand feels relaxed under my touch, and his fingers latch onto mine. I feel rather sad somehow—it’s like a little kid trying to feel safe by clutching on his mother! I squeeze his hand gently, enveloping it with mine. He responds; his fingertips reaching for mine as if he’s making sure the touch he just received was real and not going to disappear like a reflection in the water.

“Seliph is at the warehouse,” Lester responds. “See—the unfortunate thing is, that order is placed under Seliph’s ticket. Do you want me to cancel it and place a new one under my register, or do you have enough time to wait for Seliph?” he then adds, “I’m so sorry about that. The delivery guys want him to check on the coffee bags we just ordered. He should be done soon, though.”

I need Seliph. And I don’t know if he shared this so-called exciting information with Lester. Stealing a glance at Ares, I make my decision. Perhaps if Ares stays longer, he can adjust and be even more relaxed and ready to see Seliph… normally. Besides, it’s not like Seliph is going to go to our table, right?

“We can wait,” I finally convey my reply. “But make them a go-to, please.”

“Sure. Sorry for the inconvenience. For the consolation extras—strawberry or chocolate donuts?”

“Strawberry!” I quickly answer. Ares smirks. Oh, right, I’m exposing myself again, sigh. But I’m happy that he did that, because… let’s hope that this place starts to be bearable for him… “Uh,” I sheepishly add, “one strawberry, another chocolate. For the chocolate, um… dark chocolate if you have that? If not, I’ll reimburse it. I just need that one to be less sweet than usual.”

“I can do that this time. After all, you’ve waited patiently,” Lester nods happily. “I’ll tell Seliph.”

He disappears back to the counter, and Ares exhales. I squeeze his hand again.

“I…”

“It’s alright. Let’s make you comfortable here,” I smile at him. “Is dark chocolate okay?”

“… Yes,” he nods. “… Lene?”

“Hnnn~?”

“Thank you,” he mutters. “… By my ancestors, I wouldn’t have thought...”

“Oh, Ares. It’s just a donut,” giggling, I pull a strand out of his beautiful golden mane. “No biggie.”

“I’m glad it’s no big deal then,” he chuckles back. “Can’t imagine if you get serious with your generosity to me. I will not… be able to repay that.”

“Awh. Why, brooding again. Just you being happy and kind is enough!” I wink at him.

“… Such a rabbit,” he exhales again. “Too sweet. How do I take this?”

T-too sweet? “I’m not sure what you mean, but in Human, we’ll just say thank you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re getting better at being human!” I clap. He’s probably going to grill me after this, but I don’t care.

“You make a fine teacher,” he smiles a little.

“Oooh nooo! If you’re getting better at being human, this way nobody will notice you’re only alleged human!” chuckling, I notice Lester is walking to our table with a box.

“The donuts!” he says cheerfully. “And no, Lene, no reimbursement.”

“Thank you!” I clasp my hands in front of me. “Hnnn, I can already imagine it’s going to be amazing.”

“Haha. Enjoy then,” he responds. “I’ll have to hang a poster to a wall now.”

Poster. Ah, right—poster. “Lester! Seliph mentioned about it. An event coming up?”

“The Art Night!” he replies. “Details will follow, but the poster I’m hanging will tell a bit of it.”

“Ooooh this is so exciting. I’m sooo going to find Seliph!” Tirnanog’s art nights are usually scheduled twice every year during summer and winter. While winter opens the way to serene performances such as chamber music concert or poetry night, summer is just the best time for merry performance like singing and dancing. Great. Yay for commission! And I can put it on my CV too if they accept my application to fill in as a guest star! I’m already feeling so hyped about this. Tirnanog is a popular place despite being a student hangout nest from time to time. And if I got to dance here, I could apply everything I learned in class including stage management. 

I’ve left my chair when I heard Ares speaking to Lester. “… You said Seliph is at the warehouse?”

“Yeah. The little shed-like building near the parking lot.”

“Awesome. Thank you.”

Lester resumes to work on the poster. I heard Ares inquiring Seliph’s whereabouts, but after everything, I suppose he’s started to adjust, and would be calmer about it at the very least. I trust Ares. I trust Ares...

“… Meeting Seliph?” he stops me.

“Mm-hmm,” I nod. “… You want to see him too, don’t you?”

“… I’ll be lying if I said no,” he mutters with a coarse voice. He makes a motion to follow me, and just like that, I’ve got an… idea. An _idea._

“Can you hold my purse for me?”

Lester stops. So does Ares.

“Sure.”

Lester stares wide-eyed at me. I know this is going to reach Lana soon, and perhaps the sight of the Black Knight being made to hold someone else’s purse is too surprising. … Be surprised then, folks! You don’t know this Ares. You don’t know how kind he actually is.

“I’ll just find him so we can have our order,” I speak to Ares again.

“Sure,” Ares replies with the same flat tone as prior. “… Warehouse, huh…”

“… Ares?”

“Yeah?” he jolts a bit.

“I trust you, alright?” I wink at him.

“… Ah,” he mutters then. I think he understands what I’m trying to _actually_ tell him. Right, so he does not just exchange blows and kicks the moment Seliph arrives. He probably won’t fight in front of me, but if whatever happened between them is just that strong…

I smile at him again, truly leaving him with my purse in his hands. Besides, if Ares has never been trusted before, then he’s going to _learn_ accepting that too…

I circle Tirnanog to find the warehouse Lester spoke of. Ah, yes—the small building appears busy, and from here I spot a man of medium height and slender build moving boxes of purchases. He’s got long blue hair tied into a pigtail, wearing a pair of gloves.

“Seliph!!” I shout at him. “Hey, hey, Seliph~!”

He turns around. “Ah, our Lene of the stages,” he smiles kindly. “Lord, I’m so sorry that you have to look for me like this! And yes—this is the last box. Did Lester come to see you?”

“Yes! We got consolation donuts for the late order,” smiling at him, I linger closer. “Wooow. These are pretty heavy. You are strong too, Seliph~? I still can’t picture you wearing a black belt, oooh gods.”

“Haha, is that so?” he chuckles kindly. “Yeah, it’s pretty heavy! Excuse me then—“ he lifts one box, arranging it with the rest. “Ooomph! Now that takes care of it. I can be your coffee barista again.”

“Hehe~ yay, caramel frappe!” I walk beside him as he steer his feet out of the building.

“With a friend?” he idly asks, matching my perhaps way too enthusiastic paces.

“Yes! I’m with Ares!”

“Ares…” he suddenly stops. “Ares Nordion of the landscape architecture major? The crusader?”

Crusader—just like Altena says. “Crusader is a good way to dub him considering his grand Agustrian project,” I clasp my chin. “You know what, actually you should check the photos I took at the Maera Hall some other day. He sketched a beautiful blueprint, and seems a company is picking it up. Great, right?”

“I’m sure,” Seliph purses his lips. “I’m so surprised he came. I’ve offered many times, but…”

“Ares is not unfeeling,” I touch his arm reassuringly. “I’m sure deep down inside he wants to talk to you, but he just doesn’t know where to start. You said it yourself—we love our Ares.”

 _We._ We? T-then… _I_ love our Ares?

“Yeah,” Seliph flashes a faint, sad smile. “I suppose I have you to thank for, now that he is here.”

“Hnnn? No need! All I did really was just grabbing him for coffee before he could say anything,” giggling, I gesture at my favorite spot. “There he is, Seliph!~ Hiii, Ares!” I mouth to him, waving my hand enthusiastically. “I left my purse with him. So I guess you two have to talk with me around? I’ll just take my purse, don’t worry.”

“Purse—“ Seliph is stunned where he is. But not for a long time, since his face gradually lights up as well. “Thank you,” he mutters. “You really are so sweet, Lene.”

“Your strawberry donut is sweeter,” I pat his shoulders, winking at him. We get back to Tirnanog, and Ares appears like he nearly jumps out of his chair when he sees Seliph coming inside with me. Before he can say anything, though, I take my purse back. “Thank you! You are so kind.”

“No… problem,” he responds awkwardly. And for a moment his eyes flash ferociously at my blue-haired friend. He stands up, his body language isn’t really amiable—it’s like he gauges whether he should strike first or choke him second!

“Hi, Ares.” Seliph does not flinch although Ares nearly swallows him alive with his belligerent aura like that. “I’m so glad to be able to see you.”

“Finally I meet you again, Seliph Baldos Chalphy,” Ares replies stiffly, his hands are in his pockets.

“The peerless Ares Hezul Nordion of the ring of course,” Seliph nods at him with such a respectful manner. “Cappuccino?”

… Ring. Hnnn. Now that this is mentioned again, I vow to uncover this mystery soon!

“… You’re kidding, right?” Ares hisses at him.

“No,” Seliph shakes his head softly. “She said it was cappuccino, since this friend of hers is too courteous to take anything but apparently can’t stand sweets.”

Ares pauses, baffled. “… Ah,” he says that again. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Now that I have my purse back, I can go to the restroom in peace,” I stand in between, patting both Ares and Seliph at the arms at the same time. “Have fun~! Don’t worry, I’ll be back shortly. But if this place gets destroyed, I’ll bludgeon you both myself.”

I walk away, deliberately taking slow steps. This way they will not be suspicious… ahem, suspicious _enough_ to suspect me orchestrating their encounter, and at the same time I can pay attention to what’s happening in case I need to smack them for opening fire against each other. I turn around, seeing Ares balling his fists at the sides while Seliph keeps his serene smile on him. However, never once Seliph flinches or takes a step back although what Ares displays appear to be a powerfully overwhelming… errr, bellicosity. And Ares seems to be keeping his words too since he still maintains a respectful distance instead of just slamming Seliph with his chest right away—I can faintly hear him saying something, and although his words do not sound kind in the slightest, his voice is normal, like he is trying his best to express what he feels and all the rage he contains.

Sighing, I feel a bit satisfied. Hnnn~? Maybe I should be a diplomat instead of a dancer?

Well, disaster avoided, perhaps it’s not a bad idea to actually redo my hair! The knot of my ribbon does loosen because of all those twist-turn jokes I had with Ares earlier. Restroom, restroom… ah, yes, there it is. Just next to the men’s. Lester holds a roll of transparent tape, nodding at me.

“Really never thought that could happen,” he points out at Ares and Seliph with his chin.

“I trust my friends!” I laugh. “And they are not an exception.”

“Ma’am,” he makes a military salute like I’m this respectful figure or something. I wave my hand at him, and he grins back before taking leave with a couple more posters rolled under his armpit.  

Next destination—restroom! S-sigh, I’ll make a really sad traveler. Sobs.

However someone is getting out of the men’s restroom by the time I’m about to enter my restroom. I have no idea what happened, but he grins like no other upon seeing me.

I shrug. What?

“Lene,” he mutters under his breath. “Lene Bragi of Instagram. Aren’t you? Prettier in person.”

… What on earth?

“Uhhh. Excuse me,” I roll my eyes at him. The way he said my name is like he’s rasping it. Ehhh.

“No. No excuse this time.”

H-huh?

H-he takes my wrists.

Like really, really grabbing them. He takes my wrists, pushing me that my back bumps against the outer wall of the men’s restroom—the separator between men’s and women’s restrooms. I’m about to say something and probably cuss him, but suddenly he forces my arms upwards, pinning them above my head. … Huh? Gods—whaaat? “Unhand me! What do you think you’re—“

I can’t finish whatever it is I’m determined to cuss him with, because his idle hand clamps over my mouth. Meanwhile, his dominant hand is securing my wrists altogether, and I’m surprised the grip feels so strong on me. It’s like something he contains for a while. A blind rage.

“How dare you,” he hisses at me. “Not only you ignored me mercilessly, but your pet pulled a trick on me. Is that because you’re pretty that you think you can stomp on me like that? Man-eater aren’t you. Heartbreaker aren’t you. Why, perhaps Instagram fame makes you conceited.”  

I gasp in a horror as he keeps barraging me with accusations like that. “Mmmph,” I shake my head, thrashing around trying to get my point across. I need to do something. And I have to return—Ares seems to handle his situation well so far, but you know—what if…

“Now look at you writhing under my mercy. Not so arrogant anymore, aren’t you, Lene Bragi?”

“Mmm—ph!” my eyes bulge as he starts dragging me away. I want to call on Ares… or Seliph… but…

And hold on—no. I’m so angry. How dare I? How dare YOU! This has nothing to do with my Instagram, because I bet my ass again that the reason you kept getting rejected is simply because you’re a fucking creep!! And see, he just doesn’t get it. _I_ said no. With or without Ares, I still wouldn’t choose him. And really? Getting rejected and then forces himself on me?! What a great way to be accepted… not!

I hammer my knee against him. He looks surprised, and I don’t know where I get that courage… perhaps my temper fuels it—that I dart a kick against his crotch. He mumbles a nice, nice cuss word, bending to clutch on his lower abdomen. If only I wore my wedges instead of those comfortable soft canvas shoes—then I might have assigned a birth control treatment on him.

Still, my kick impacted him because his grip against my wrists loosens. I pull my hands out of his grip, but at the same time he also releases them, giving me that surprise pressure which almost sent me tumbling on the ground. I quickly pick myself up, trying to get away from him to return to where Ares is.

… To… Ares…

“You’re not going anywhere,” he hisses. “Damn you. Damn women like you.”

“Let me go!” The good part—my kick startled him enough that he lost control of himself, giving me a chance to free my mouth from his hand. The bad part—uh oh, he seems to be raging mad now. I am just about to slip away from him as his body blocks my exit when he takes a hold of my arm. I’m too dignified to flinch when his rough touch puts an aching pressure on my upper arm, near my elbow.

“No way, bitch,” he spats. “I need to teach you a lesson.”

“I’m sorry, but that is enough. You’re banned from this store.”

H-huh?

Someone rushes to me, pats the creeper on the shoulder, conveniently pulling him off me. Strands of blue hair sway around me as he moves seamlessly to get to the creeper. Blue hair. Long blue hair tied into a pigtail. “Why… Seliph?” I murmur. “T-then Ares…”

“Here, rabbit.”

“Ah…” my back is bumping into something—again. Ares’ chest. And that very moment he takes his hands out of his pockets, embracing me. Fencing me against the creeper who is now at the mercy of Seliph’s arm lock.

“Oi, dipshit. Didn’t you hear what I told you on the phone?”

“You, the flashy fucktwat with a big bike—“

“She didn’t say you could touch her,” Ares coldly whispers to him. “And neither did I.” The creeper does not have the chance to talk back because Ares makes a simple turn, darting a sharp, vicious roundhouse kick against his ribs. The creeper coughs as if his lungs are breaking, but Ares takes a hold of him. “I’m not done with you yet. If only you knew it was only by her grace that I did not hunt you down right away.”

“Ahaha, you’re still deadly as always, Ares…” Seliph grins. “What do we do know?”

“It’s a bathroom. Natural fortress as Altena said,” oooh boy, Ares has a dangerous smirk on his face. “Come on, asshole,” he nods at Seliph. Still as gruff and coarse, but his eyes are not as hostile.

“What—are you going to do?” I tug on Ares.

“Teaching him a lesson. What else?” Ares shrugs in a disinterested manner. “Get a load on this one.”

“Alright,” Seliph smiles, following Ares to drag him to the bathroom.

“Aaah, wait—no torture!!” disregarding everything else I jump on my toes to follow them. Some dudes, whose private time with the urinoirs I invaded instantly get panicked and zip their pants up.

“Female on the board!” one of them shouts.

“G-Gods,” I bring my hands onto my face, realizing I’ve been jumping into men’s bathroom out of reflex.

“A _lady_ , asshole,” I can hear Ares correcting him coldly. “And if you guys turn around, I’ll chop your _things_ with my bare hands. Are we clear? Don’t think I can’t.”

“What the heck—huh, fucking Black Knight!“

“No torture!” I quickly shout back—not sure anymore to whom it’s aimed for—Ares, towards that creeper, or Ares, towards the innocent bathroom-goers? I should get out—I invaded their sanctuary anyway—but… but Ares...

“I promise, no torture,” Seliph kindly nods at me. “It’s going to be alright.”

“You promised her. I don’t,” Ares smacks the creeper against a toilet seat.

“Ares.”

“… Alright, alright. Sigh, I just got started.”

Finally, with threat being neutralized and campus officers being called to Tirnanog, everything calms down. … Sort of. Ares and I are back to my favorite spot, and here I am, hugging on the cute pink cushion I clutch against my chest while he drags his chair closer to mine.

“… Are you alright?” he asks gently after some time.

I give him a small nod.

“Tell me if you’re not,” suddenly he whispers. “… People lie to me. Not you too.”

“I’m shocked, of course, but…” I reach out to him. “I’m going to be alright.”

“I’m—“ unexpected to me, he sighs, resting his head on top of my shoulder. “—glad.”

“Ah, Ares,” it feels so relieving to find my laughter back—I ruffle his blond mane, which now drapes over my shoulder. “Hnnn? Have I ever lied to you? Alright, perhaps I’m not the best texter in the world. But I said you’re kind. And such a cute cub. And you keep proving my words to be true again and again, don’t you~?”

“No,” he mutters. “… I’m not kind.”

“Really~?” I tick his nose. “You hate Seliph but you came here when I asked you to. And you both cooperated to save me. And you stopped when I asked you to. Aren’t you kind~?”

“That is different. It’s not for that baby-faced asshole, it’s because you are…” he quickly retorts before ruffling his own mane in frustration. “… Alright, because of you.”

“Hehehe. See, cute cub~!” I’m just about to tease him again when Seliph strolls to approach us with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Caramel frappe and cappuccino,” why, he’s got the brightest smile I’ve ever witnessed so far…

“Thank you!” I take the cups from him. “Here, Ares, meow.”

“… No, Lene,” Seliph shakes his head. “I thank you. No, we should be thanking you.”

“Definitely you should,” Ares growls at him. “I’d have decked you if she—“

“Ah, so you really listened to me instead!”

“… Why are you smiling?”

“Because you’re so kind?”

“… I say this _again_ —I’m not.”

“Hnnn?”

“… Stop… smiling.”

“Why not?”

“… I forget what I want to argue about.”

“Really? Here’s a big, big, nice smiiile~!”

“Lene.”

“Ares~?”

“… Never mind.”

“Ah,” Seliph chuckles… “But yeah…”

“Hnnn? You too, Seliph~?” I take a sip of my caramel frappe. “Oh, this is so good.”

“… I wouldn’t dream of being able to talk to him again after…” Seliph looks away for a moment. He still has that sad smile like what I witnessed at the warehouse, but this time it looks lighter, much lighter than prior. “And I have you to thank for. Of course, I wish that wasn’t the circumstance, but…”

“… But it’s just right,” Ares cuts in, finishing his sentence. “I’m not that dense. Thank you, dickwad.”

“It’s Seliph, not ‘dickwad’. Try again,” I yank his mullet.

“It’s alright,” Seliph chuckles, smiling so kindly. “He thanked me.”

“… Well,” Ares glances somewhere else awkwardly. “Admittedly, if you didn’t hear her screaming first then I’d be too late. And it’s also you who pulled him from her.”

He stands up. And my wary eyes follow just in case.

“Thank you, Seliph Baldos Chalphy.”

He waves Seliph into a handshake…

“… Nice katame-waza,” he adds. It’s still not going to be enough to be classified as friendly, and God knows that he might as well just tried to _murder_ Seliph with that handshake. But… but he thanked Seliph. And praised his uuhhh, technique?—or whatever it is he just said. He… he _praised_ Seliph. And he stood up to assume a proper manner of thanking another…

“Strong mawashi-geri as always,” Seliph nods, as if they are two warriors exchanging respectful glances at the battlefield. “You sure you don’t want to…” he contemplates. “The ring misses you.”

“Later,” he gruffly cuts in. “Altena already tried to make me think today. Don’t push your luck. I thank you for saving Lene, but do not assume I regard you as a friend, Chalphy.”

“I understand,” Seliph only smiles… even more tenderly. “And Lene, are you really alright?”

“I am! Thank you so much. Your timing is perfect,” I nod eagerly. “Besides, I know I can’t lie,” chuckling, I poke Ares in the ribs. “Thank you again for the coffee, Seliph.”

“No problem. You may want to get a restraining order on him,” Seliph responds seriously. “My uncle is an officer. I’ll see it with him to see what you need to file one. You can have me as a witness.”

“And me,” Ares chimes in. “And you know those guys in the bathroom knew what happened.”

“Don’t remind me,” I lightly slap his shoulder, my face burning red.

“Is there a way to make it so that she won’t need to face him again, to file that one?” Ares shifts his attention back to Seliph.

“I’ll do everything I can,” Seliph replies solemnly.

“I mark your words, Chalphy. So you better do,” Ares’ eyes narrow at him.

“Of course,” Seliph smiles. “I still have my shift…”

“We have our classes,” I gesture to Ares. “So we’re leaving.”

“If anyone ever bothers you, tell me. We’ll keep an eye out of him so this won’t happen again,” Seliph gently touches my shoulder. “Again, Lene, thank you. Thank you so much…” his eyes kindly land on Ares, and I understand what he implies. Meanwhile Ares clears his throat, awkwardly saying he’s late. I spare the last smile of the day at Seliph, following Ares who is eager to get out of Tirnanog.

“… What class?” he asks in a husky voice as we walk together.

“Stage management. Then something like Opera 101,” I reply softly. “Yours?”

“Urban planning law,” he responds. “Not my favorite class. Quantitative method to end the day since I’m a senior but that should be everything for today. I may sketch again in between, though.”

“My schedule lasts until the afternoon,” I contemplate a bit. “There will be dance theory and movement theater, but everything is indoor-learning. I’m probably going to be done by five.”

“Five. … I can resume reading and I need to sketch, anyway,” he ponders. “And after that…”

“You’re a worrywart,” I tease him.

“Perhaps I am,” he smiles faintly.

“And how’s the cappuccino~?”

“… Bearable,” he takes a sip again. “And this one should be another thing I’m thanking you for.”

“I’m so glad,” my hands are clasped in front of me. “Since you seem to _hate_ Tirnanog…”

“You are my exception.”

“Oooh, Ares~! You’re so kind!” ... But the way he said it makes me feel shy...

“Tch,” he smirks awkwardly. “I’m picking you at five after movement theater, then?”

“H-hold on—you’re serious?”

He pauses. Dropping his chords lower, he slowly grins at me. “… What do you think?”

And then it’s my turn to pause. Because—admittedly I don’t resent the idea of him waiting on me at my literal classroom door. And like it or not I admit I need to feel safe after what just happened. But not only that—this idea of going home with Ares or finding him at my door makes me feel… happy?

“I—“ somehow I want to avert my eyes from his when conveying my answer. “I—think—AR-D-303.”

“Hmmm?” he hums. I know it—a sign that he gently urges me to say more.

“T-that’s where my last class is,” I whisper. “The movement theater. T-the literal classroom.”

“Alright then,” he nods calmly. “I don’t forget.”

He smiles this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the long chapter. This story did end up longer than I expected it to be, but I still want to keep the chapter numbers minimum. Little by little we're steps closer to the end, and here we are, tearing into Ares like peeling an onion. I incorporate the idea of Lene here being the reason why Ares restrains himself that he is finally able to go to Tirnanog and even face Seliph without having his fist do the talking first, a little bit of drawing the inspiration from the game where she is one of the reasons why Ares eventually talks with Seliph instead of blindly fighting him. 
> 
> I also like the idea of Altena sparring with Ares. Mystletainn gives a nice stat boost and so is Gae Bolg, and regardless of Altena's late arrival in the game, these two still make up the strongest units we can have, so... 
> 
> Besides, FEH Quan with his Gae Bolg kicks ass... ahem, consider this: Altena in FEH, with a refinable Gae Bolg... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Anyway, I don't know if you notice, but in my Instagram Emblem universe the parents (first-gen of Jugdral) are alive. However they bear little or insignificant presence on Instagram in this story, with the exception of Lachesis / Finn since they are presumed to be alive in the original game to keep up with the canon. 
> 
> [ Extra sorry for the comical part in regards to the men's bathroom scene ]


	10. Very Confused, Many Questions

I am not really thinking much because the day already started heavily for me like that. My mood practically has become a bit better by the time my next class starts, and I still have the caramel frappe to take with me to the next class. I am rather awkward and easily startled when people—especially my male classmates—talk to me. For the whole day, I am not even feeling like touching Instagram in the slightest.

Iuchar waved his hand when he saw me strolling inside for my stage management class, so I quickly seat myself at the desk near him. I don’t think much of the possibility of stealing another person’s seat—I want to feel… shielded, I guess, and it helps knowing there isa familiar face and an actual person I know and can call a friend beside me.

Well, Iuchar _is_ a performing arts major, but he majors theater while I major dancing.

“You look rather pale, my dear Lene!” he says as I sigh, dropping my weight to the seat next to his. “Don’t run under this blazing heat! It will ruin your beauty and give you heat wave.”

Oh, right—forgot to tell you he does talk flowery like that. If his twin brother Iucharba heard the way he spoke to me like this, perhaps he would have been rolling on the floor in tears.

Well, I can only smile at Iuchar since I do not really want to recall the incident. I do remember telling him to keep an eye of people who might act rather odd like they are curiously looking at me. He seems starting to catch what I mean, but…

“Oh, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you have the most ardent admirers, my flower!”

Just then he takes out a plastic rose from under his shirt.

First thing first—WHAT THE. And second, sigh. See? People seem to think that you can only feel _rightly_ crept out when the person reveals themselves to you and… showed their intention blatantly like mine threatened me. And even then, I’m sure there will still be many people, too many perhaps, thinking it was just him being passionate in showing his admiration towards me, and again I must be a bitch with trademark emoji for not even wanting to give him a try, huh?

Well, needless to say practically whatever our lecturer say during this stage management class only goes through my right ear to come out of the left one again. For short, I feel so blank. It was over, right? But in my mind, the scene when the campus creeper showed up and cornered me simply keeps replaying like an old movie running on a malfunctioning projector.

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Girls, can I vent :((_

I sent that to our group chat—the Cutie Quartet—from under my desk.

None replied me. Hnnn. Can they make time to reply? Really? I kind of desperately need it.

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Missent again, rabbit._

AAAA—

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Not the girls, but you can. Try me._

He already helps and knows… too much. I can’t. So I simply copy what I missent him to our group chat. And of course it does not take long until I tell them everything. From the same user who has been sending me so-called passionate Instagram texts, to the eventual showdown at Tirnanog.

**_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _That is outrageous, the FUUUU are you okay?! D: I’m so MAD wtf??_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… Ares helped me :(( even teamed up with Seliph to rescue me…_

**_pheeew  
_ ** _You had morning coffee with Ares IN TIRNANOG??_

**_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Oi, focus._

**_pheeew_ ** _  
But nobody hates Tirnanog more than the Black Knight._

**_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
FEE_

**_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
Should I… should we get you to see my mother?_

… Her mother. Edain Jungby, medical doctor. I—

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _No, thankfully not until that, no :(_

**_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _What’s with men and feeling so entitled of women like almost all the time?! Getting rejected and almost rape a girl like that?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Larcei._

**_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. ... But Lene…_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I know…_

**_pheeew  
_ ** _See, you probably should stop coming off strong all the time!! It’s not the time for what’s supposed to be, we KNOW it’s not supposed to be like that, who cares what the theory behind it, that one’s an asswipe!_

**_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Who blamed her?! I said this so Lene carves in her mind that this isn’t her fault at all! That’s why I said it, what’s next, lose your job and burn your office to the ground?!_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Please don’t fight because of me._

**_pheeew_ ** _  
We’re sorry._

**_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Let’s try again if you want?_

… Sigh.

_Are you alright?_

Ares just texted me.

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Ummm. You texted…_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Did that make you uncomfortable?_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I mean. You just talked to me here, and—_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _There’s a time for something and there’s another for another._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You mean like… you MEAN it._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes. But I’d like you to listen to me this time. Ready?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Alright..._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
If I’ve ever unnerved you or made you uncomfortable in any way, just tell me and I’ll stop._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
That’s what you wanted to convey? :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I mean. OMG._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Saying ‘stop’ is enough and I shall._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… I wonder what I did so he was so angry…_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Nothing. Trust me, nothing._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Perhaps there’s something in me which makes people angry…_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Perhaps, if you slash their tires._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Huh?? Omg I would never!_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _I mean it’s not your fault._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hnnnn—_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Lene, even if you were the one who landed that mawashi-geri instead of me, it’s still not your fault._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Quick question :(_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Anything._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Mawashi-geri? :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Spin kick :)_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Like a roundhouse kick?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
It’s just one of the variants :)_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Like what? O_o;;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Like what I did :)_

Is it just me or he sounds… hesitant?

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_So why the ribs?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I wasn’t planning to finish early in the first place._

W-wew.

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _And katame-waza?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Grappling-hold._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Heheeee can you do that too?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Doing what?_

Ares is open at feeling vindictive beating the _shit_ out of that guy, but here he sounds hesitant indeed!

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I didn’t know Seliph does karate :OO_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Now you do._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _He’s probably the only person who didn’t flinch when facing you ^^_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _You didn’t either._

Hnnn, you jester.

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Is he strong?~_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _… He really is._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I thought you hated him yet here you are praising him~_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _I can multitask._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _So he didn’t shrink when you glared because he’s THAT strong?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
And you always smile. Chalphy’s strength is nothing compared to you._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… Mine? Like—my strength?_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _No. You._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… Is this because compared to you I’m as soft as a cotton candy ^^;;;_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Softness does not equal weakness._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… Ares? :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
No matter what happened, somehow you’d still manage to…_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
To? :OO_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _… To smile at me._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
H-hold on. You call that strength?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I can’t kick men’s ribs until they’re out of breath like you :((_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
A lady who never lets anything destroy her soul is stronger than me._

… Eh?

That sounds nice. T-that sounds…

Is it just me or Ares appears rather… melancholic too?

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _^^;;; … why do I feel like, you’re saluting at me._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
If I am?_

He sent me a photo!  I think I’m way, way too impatient to see what he put there, so I tap what he sent me in a heartbeat.

Huh? He’s in his class. The architecture seniors seem to be having an idle merry time because their lecturer hasn’t come, or it’s one of those sessions where they only need to sketch and design and contact their lecturer when there’s difficulty. I have no idea what to make of the photo because the blurry background seems to show that Altena is smacking a dude with a whiteboard eraser.

But the photo is not about Altena or the survival-for-the-fittest zone his class has turned out to be. It’s him. He is… bowing to the camera. Like deep, 90-degree bowing. H-HOLD ON.

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Too many people equate strength with raw power. In case you never receive one from one of those guys in uniforms, here’s one._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… Quick question again WHAT DID YOU HOLD YOUR PHONE WITH OMFG_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Huh? Ah, strapped to my instep._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
BUT TO DO SO YOU’LL NEED LIKE, AN ARCH-KICK_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Well, talk about a mawashi-geri that doesn’t destroy._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
THAT’S A MAWASHI-GERI???_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Hmmm?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
BUT YOU SAID YOU’RE NOT A DANCERRRR_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Indeed I’m not._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OMG YOU ARE STILL AN ALLEGED HUMAN_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _YOU ARE AN ICE VAMPIRE THEN?? RIGHT?? OMG YOUR SECRET IS SAFE WITH ME_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Feeling better, rabbit?_

… Oh…

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _YOU SAID THAT JUST SO I WON’T REVEAL IT TO THE WORLD, RIGHT_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Feeling better, yes or no?_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… Actually_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Yes?_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… I guess so u_u_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Then I’m not complaining._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… Hey, Ares…_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Yes?_

I look around. The moment my lecturer turns away from me, I snap a photo back. It’s my selfie. I’m smiling with a V pose I made with my index and middle fingers to send him.

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Thank you~!! Heheee yesss life can’t bring me down ^^_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _… Ah._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Like that, I…_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Huh?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Somehow there’s this feeling inside my chest. Would you believe me if I said…_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
M-maybe you shouldn’t try to do acrobatic moves like that ^^;;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Perhaps :)_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
If you want to try, you should do some stretching reps first! :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I’ll keep that in mind, Coach Bragi :)_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I did some videos about that too so you can check ^^_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Thank you :)_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Don’t somersault carelessly otherwise you’ll sprain your joints and inner thighs! :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Of course :)_

I guess only God knows why he keeps replying with smiley emoji like that but hey, don’t say I did not warn him. Hmmm, come to think of it, if I remember clearly he said he followed me after my video doing a somersault appeared on his newsfeed—possibly because Nanna liked my posts and we’re mutuals.

Scrolling the messages back, I frown a little bit. Ahhhh what did he want to say? This is so regrettable. He sounds pretty _humane_ and rather melancholic and all I did was trolling him back and forth. Hnnn, now he’ll probably swallow those words to the grave.

… Can words manifest if you cleave a person in two? No? Sigh, too bad.

I’ll make sure to check on him later when he picks me up. N-no, I’m not going to pat his inner thighs like that, darn it. And despite his hesitation, he did not strike me as someone who had no idea what he talked about. So he knows what mawashi-geri means. He can identify Seliph’s move in a heartbeat. What if he actually…

… S-secretly admires Seliph but just toooo proud to tell him???

What’s that term again—t… tsundere?!

(I’ll need to steal one of Coirpre’s comics.)

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _SELIPH DID ARES EVER SHYLY GIVE YOU CHOCOLATE OR EMBROIDERED HANDKERCHIEF OR_

**_schalphy  
_ ** _I’m… sorry… but… what? ^^;_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _OR HAVE YOU TRIED GIVING ARES_

**_schalphy  
_ ** _Ahahahaaa, I’m not in the mood having his knuckle on my face. Why don’t you try it? :D_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Heheee even if solely to mess with him, it’ll be too cruel, he can’t stand sweets ^^_

**_schalphy  
_ ** _Oh, really? :O I had no idea, even!_

C-crap. HNNNGGGHHHH!

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Yes! … I’ve never seen someone looking so personally offended by a strawberry roll cake ^^;;_

**_schalphy  
_ ** _Since you know Ares well, perhaps I can leave the gift-making to you, Lene :D_

Huh? Giving a cute gift for Ares? Haha, what for? And what if he dies?

“Valentine’s Day?”

Eh?

“Lene! Hey, Lene! O, stars! How wicked of thee to bring forth such misfortune upon my dearest!”

W-what?

Iuchar helped me getting back on my seat again. W-why do I have to slam my legs against _anything_ when I’m incredibly startled. Sigh. I’m nineteen and a half, not five! Aaaaa—

“Are you alright, my little marionette? Why must you fall, at the mention of the Day of Devotion?”

… Back then I teased Ares to be generous with his phone bill considering he sent me one text after another, but if Iuchar texts the way he speaks, then Ares has got a contender.

“What about Valentine’s Day, Iuchar?”

“We’ll perform! See, my department has this program you can watch if you’re interested. I’m not going to reveal the play for you, though, but you bet it’s not Romeo and Juliet!”

“Thank God your department is sensible,” I chuckle. “Alright, alright~ I’ll see it later. I’m pumped too!”

“I like this welcoming spring events. First the Art Night, then my department and those sport competitions. Our school is superb!”

Sport… competitions. Why, somehow this ‘ring’ rings again in my mind!

“It’ll be better if you bring your plus one, though. Never shy away from magic!”

“If it’s safe enough for children, I’ll gladly bring my little brother,” I smirk. “Free, right?”

Iuchar comically rolls his fists over my temple. “Free? Free you said? You can’t even take a dump at the park for free because you’ll get fined. Classmates are classmates, but business is business!”

“Alright, alright~…” gulping, my comical response finally reaches him as well. “Hey, Iuchar. What goes through your mind when people around you talk about… a ring?”

“Marriage?” he beams at me.

“If it’s one of those student athletes?”

Then I stop. To my knowledge Seliph seems to be his own person. Sure he is nice and people like him—too nice perhaps that people of any clique want to flock near him and seems hoping he will fix just everything for them. If not, why did Seliph have to be pushed working warehouse if he’s typically at the counter taking orders and making them… right?

Alright, I digress. I mean—Seliph doesn’t appear to be one of those student athletes. If anything, campus idol probably defines him more considering he seems to just… want everyone he cherishes to be in good condition. It’s not about Seliph’s appearance that can be deceiving; these days it’s like everywhere I go there is this attitude which comes with being a frat boy or a student athlete like it’s a package. If anything, Seliph seems to excel academically, a total opposite of one’s idea about a jock.

And then there’s Ares, who seems to be a loner to begin with. People already _fear_ him even before I found out he’s got that notorious alias people address him with, even before I got to know his name. Even if Ares fits the description of a student athlete—not to mention he’s got the posture to match it! ... W-well… ahem, he doesn’t seem to be interested in… glory. Like he has his own paces and the Devil be damned, Jugdral-U can get hit by a meteor tomorrow and he’ll probably still have no hesitation to kick a jock blue if something happens.

“The movie?”

Iuchar’s voice startles me again. “The… movie?”

“Yeah! That horror movie—the Ring? With the ghost girl who comes out of the TV?”

M-maybe I should talk to a different person…

Well, regardless, the day practically went better than I thought. I feel like little by little I start to feel alright. I’m serious with what I sent Ares—I’m not going to let the world bring me down! At the same time somehow the idea of having Ares to really pick me up at my literal classroom door at the expected time makes me feel… throbbed. Like, I don’t know, I feel shy but at the same time I’m also anticipating it? Does that make sense?

Sigh. I wish things were not _this_ complicated. I wish interacting with him did not give me so much… feelings. But strange enough, I _actually_ don’t mind? Like I actually like all these thrilling things I’m experiencing. And in a way, I’m glad it’s… about him. Like I can’t picture feeling everything I am towards another person, just like what I told that campus creeper on Instagram.

I don’t understand…

… But I don’t hate it.

For some reason, I think everyone else got it all wrong. Why do they tend to say Ares is cold and unfeeling? He’s probably not the smoothest talker in the entire galaxy, but he’s… warm. He has that ability to make me feel safe and comforted. And even then, his awkwardness is actually endearing. I tease him a lot about saying the darndest things with a straight face, but…

… But I don’t hate him!

When the clock in the class says it’s five and my lecturer ends the class, somehow I feel like fidgeting with my dress. People are already out in a spur moment breathing relief, and only then I slowly slide off my desk to reach the door. Yeah, I’m feeling a bit antsy, being in an open space without people I know…

Sigh. I want to recover quickly…

From where I’m sitting, I can hear people are murmuring. Previously it’s just typical after-class chaos, with students hopping here and there either going home or getting to their work place. What prompts this… errr, orderly rumpus?

“Someone is looking for you,” a classmate nudges me in a hesitant manner. “Didn’t want to come in.”

For a moment, my blood freezes recalling the previous incident. “Can we… walk together?”

“I-it’s him. I guess I’m going to pass.”

Huh?

He literally runs away!

The crowd disperses when they see me exiting the class, like I’m this entity they are not supposed to touch. I glance left and right thinking I can grab a poor soul and suplex them, perhaps, for running away from me like that—but then I see why. Just right when I begin to wonder if I forgot to use deodorant!

… It’s Ares.

He is glancing down, at his watch with the same landscape architecture book in his hand; the one he was reading at Tirnanog. And somehow I automatically mirror him, glancing on mine. The sporty rough terrain-resistant black G-Shock he has, the cute rose gold Aoile bow-knot with pink straps I snatched off Amazon for nine dollars for me. And just then he simply returns the book to his backpack.

Our eyes meet then.

“Ares!” I smile at him.

He is startled a bit, but then his eyes come to life as he spares a faint smile to me. “Done already?”

“You’re here!” I pat his hand. “I really… I mean, I didn’t think you’d come…”

“I promised you and I don’t forget.”

It’s always like that. Simple lines, concise and precise but also honest that I do not have to play guess…

“Why didn’t you just come in?” I chuckle a little when he softly gasps since I clutch on his arm in our typical joking manner.

“Didn’t want to… intrude,” he says then. “And it seems I scare people enough, so…”

I can’t believe my ears.

So my classmate refused to walk with me just because Ares was outside waiting on me… _reading,_ standing with his back against the wall, near the door. And what if it truly was a creeper situation? If it was someone powerful, nobody would want to help me even if it meant walking with me a little bit?

… While Ares is just… there, unhesitant.

He had no qualm trying to locate the creeper for me. And even after being threatened to be kept out of the ring—whatever it is supposed to mean, anyway—never once he backed down from doing what he thinks he has to be doing. He dislikes Seliph like no other, yet he throws away his pride to follow me to Tirnanog, to receive Seliph’s assistance on behalf of me—starting from letting Seliph take the spotlight for subduing the creeper, acknowledging that if it’s not for Seliph, he might have lost me because the creeper might as well have kidnapped me.

… He let me order the cappuccino for him, knowing well Seliph would be the one making it. Even if I didn't ask Seliph directly, he knows Seliph works at Tirnanog, and most likely would be the one making our coffee anyway. He let me keep the original order instead of insisting Lester to make it for us and still tried his best adjusting when he eventually studied as we waited for Seliph.

“Hnnn~? Scare people? What if next time I braid your hair and tie it with a pink ribbon?”

“NO.”

I take him with me and he does not protest a little bit even though I keep teasing how beautiful his hair is. Meanwhile people are looking at me like I’m insane, if not making comments how obedient Ares is like he’s some sort of a beast needing a muzzle. I caught nastier, nastier voices as we keep walking—like whether Ares is my friend with benefit and that I must have been ~so good~ since Ares is just… calm.

We are at the parking lot, and I’m still fuming thinking of the way they treat him…

“… Hey, Lene,” he says, without touching me. “You’re spacing out. Want some milk tea?”

Milk tea? Oh—right. Southern parking lot has a milk tea stand.

I shake my head.

“No? But strawberry…”

“Hnnn!” I yank his mullet, earning his tender chuckles.

“Really though, if you want it, just say so.”

“And you’re going to pay for it again?” I huff.

“Probably,” he _smirks._ I don’t like it. He knows he’ll win when he does.

“I’m so angry.”

“Let it out, rabbit.”

“Not about him! But… but them.”

“Them?”

“People attending the last class,” I fold my arms then. “You were just reading. Why were they like that?”

“Well,” he clears his throat after a pause. “For starter, Black Knight is not a pretty alias.”

“And you should have come inside! I reeeally wish people could see such a cute cub you are.”

“I did think so,” he scratches his nose awkwardly. “But I decided I’d just wait until you came out.”

“But why? Why—oh why, oh why, oh why~?” humming, I make light bouncing steps as if I’m dancing.

“I just,” he clears his throat again, “… don’t think it may not be wise to pop in. The class was pretty empty, so…”

“You didn’t want to scare me!” I respond, nearly gasping.

“Yes,” he nods.

“But you’re not—scary! I mean—“

“Your situation is.”

“… Ares…” I’m so speechless. Speechless—beyond words. I mean, if he is that low he can feel annoyed that I took these precautions and even demanded him to be where I want him to be. And yet…

“So let’s not burden your mind more,” he pats my back. “Little by little, we’ll make it through.”

 _We,_ he said. Like he’s telling me I shouldn’t worry too much in regards to how I treat him because he’ll understand that I do not aim to deliberately mistreat him. That I may need time to readjust to feeling normal again, that people are not waiting on me in the shadows to jump on me or scar me.

… Those warm feelings return. There’s something so, so tender I feel like brewing inside my chest. Like a slow-cooker chicken pot—it’s just there, comforting, healing, and over all so soft. I don’t understand. I really don’t. But earlier Ares mentioned he felt something—did he not, or was I dreaming? Are we experiencing the same thing then? It’s like our summers just corresponds with each other. My summer and his, conjoined, and I’m experiencing his as he is experiencing mine.

What is this then? And why did I get all flustered when Seliph mentioned gift-giving? What is…

… I don’t know why, but suddenly I want to cry. Like, I just want to cry, right here, bawling my eyes out because I’ve never felt like this before. It’s so much, so much than I can possibly comprehend; and even if I mewl like a baby, somehow I want him to hold me in the end. Because somehow I feel like I’m going to only get even sadder if I’m alone in this. And it has to be Ares. It has to be him. Somehow…

M-my eyes are getting blurry. It’s much more than what I felt when he said he’d order a takeout for Coirpre at the ramen shop. I’m so afraid. First I don’t know what’s happening to me. Second, despite everything I actually don’t mind. Third I feel so warm and treasured like I’ve never been. Fourth, I’m…

… I’m afraid I can’t contain it anymore. What if I cry in front of him? W-what if…

“Last time before we ride—do you want the strawberry milk tea?” his voice, again, startles me. And I’m feeling so much that I can’t even make a quick yes or no. I’m only there, looking at him. S-so much…

“Lene?”

He steps forward…

… I can’t speak…

“Lene…?” he asks again, more careful this time, maintaining a respectful distance from me.

I don’t know what went through my head, but I grab his arm. I take it, I take it like my life depends on it. I can only look at him—my eyes have pleading stare, like I’m desperately trying to tell him that—for some reason, I don’t want him to go just yet. I wish he could give me an answer because I’m feeling so much, so much that I don’t think I can get through it even if I’m rambling the entire afternoon.

He looks at me back. Those normally-fiery copper eyes look so gentle, so warm and nourishing like bashful early summer rays in the morning. He does not back away, like he is waiting for me to do something and only then he will respond. He does not swat my hands like the way he gently did Altena, although I’m not sure if it means he thinks I’m pathetic and broken or he doesn’t mind me.

… But for some reason, I don’t want him to simply not mind me being there. I want him to…

… To want me?

To want my presence back, the way I’m feeling so much about him like this? I don’t—

“Lene,” he murmurs, as if he’s been waiting for his entire life to call out my name. “Rabbit. Lene. Lene.”

“Ares, I…”

He brings his hand close to my face, and I’m tilting my chin, leaning in onto him.

“Ares, I… I don’t understand. B-but. But I—“

“Does my name… feel just right to you?” he whispers, his voice only gets huskier then.

“… S-so… right,” I whisper to him back. I’m not sure. I’m still unsure. But this feels right. This feels…

“Because you can call me the Black Knight if it doesn’t,” he responds, his hand is so close to my hair but it’s just… just there. He does not touch me. “Actually—I don’t care whatever you call me. Lion demon. Alleged ice vampire. Anything—“

“Why… is that?”

“I wish I knew,” he says, as if talking to himself. “I wish I knew. But there are things I don’t, Lene.”

“Leeeeneeee!!”

We gasp.

Those copper eyes return to its normal state—fiery and alert, and he breaks away from me in the manner akin to someone who thinks he just made a mistake.

… And for some reason, I’m disappointed. He could have touched my hair if he wanted to. H-he could…

“Lene!”

I turn around. Larcei literally _runs_ to get to me from the other end of this parking lot, with Fee flying behind her and Lana nearly tripping on her maxi dress to follow my energetic friends. Fee stops upon noticing Ares is with me, and she pulls me beside her, giving the lion cub a wary look.

“Ares Hezul Nordion, the Black Knight?”

G-God.

“I am.”

“We’re taking Lene with us,” she says, calculating Ares’ reaction.

“Go ahead,” Ares simply nods.

“Are you alright?” Larcei murmurs. “Hey, why is she looking like she’s about to cry?!”

“N-no, I…”

“What did you do to her?” Fee snaps, an inch close to swing her purse against Ares’ face.

“Picking her up to drive her home so that she feels safe.”

“… What?” my girls are stunned right before me. There is no anger, no grudge, nothing which says _the fuck you crazy banshees_ on Ares’ face. If anything, he’s just… calm. So, so calm.

“T-that’s right,” somehow my tears are so, so close to spill out… “H-he doesn’t do anything. H-he saved me today, really. Ares is kind. Ares really is kind. Ares is…”

“Sssh, Lene, girl,” Larcei suddenly envelops me into a tight hug, and the others join in, burying me under deep, deep, warm big hug. “We’re sorry for earlier. We’re sorry. We love you, we love you so much that it pains us when we heard what happened to you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

I can only nod, otherwise I’m probably going to choke on my own tears if I open my mouth to speak.

“Is she?” Fee now eyes Ares. “Don’t lie about her to us.”

“I hope,” Ares wisely responds. “Kicked the bastard in the ribs. She stopped me before things got ugly.”

“T-that’s why,” I whisper again. “T-that’s why, please—Ares can be with me if he wants.”

My girls are silent again. At least until Larcei speaks. “… You confronted him at Tirnanog?”

“A-and used his number on behalf of me. Just ask Seliph. Ask Seliph.”

Suddenly, unexpected to us all, Ares chuckles. Faintly, but enough for us to hear. And it’s not malicious, not even sarcastic. But the tone somehow sounds… sad in my ears. “Your rabbit is sweet.”

H-huh?

“… Still speaking on my behalf even though…” he halts his words, nodding back to the girls. “Yes. Take her home. I think it’s best that you guys accompany her for the whole day.”

“And that’s… okay for you?” Lana speaks with her soft voice innocently.

Ares pauses, probably assessing whether Lana is being sarcastic with him or not. But seconds later, his sincere smile blossoms, followed by series of light chuckles. “Of course. The most important thing for me is that she gets home safely and comfortable, after all.”

Larcei exhales. “You know, probably you’re not so bad after all.”

Fee grins sheepishly at him. “Sorry for trying to ruin your nose, then…”

“No worries,” he smirks back. “That means Lene is in good hands.”

“Hnnn,” I mumble, nearly sobbing again. … Ah, Ares…

“Come on, come on, let me drive you home,” Larcei pulls me in into a hug, patting my head.

“Let’s drop by somewhere else then? Master Cakes?” Fee announces.

“Oooh, great idea, great idea! Come on, Lene, our treat!” Lana rubs my back in a caring manner. “And we’ll get you home before it’s dark outside. Let’s get those sugar donuts to make you feel better.”

“H-hnnn.” I really just want to sob against Larcei’s polo shirt…

“Uhhh, and you?” Fee scratches her head. “You can come with us too, you know?”

“Right, right! It seems Lene is happy when you’re around, so why not?” Lana chirps.

“You say something, I castrate you,” I try so hard to _glare_ at Ares.

But he simply smiles. “No. There’s no place for me there and I have my own mount.”

“We mean it,” Larcei spares a kind smile at him. “After all, we need to thank you for saving Lene. Oh, right. Back then you strolled in buying the tam—” she didn’t finish her sentence because I elbow her.

“Ares, you comment, you die.”

“Alright,” he simply smiles again. “With Seliph. There was Seliph in the story.”

… Why is he s-so… hnnn, s-sobs…

“Is that because of me?” Fee asks, looking a bit guilty.

“Of course not,” he chuckles boisterously this time. “She likes strawberry, by the way.”

“ _Obsessed_ , you mean,” Larcei grins. “Wanna know other things she likes?”

“Oh?” g-great, Ares’ eyes twinkle now…

“L-let’s just get to Master Cakes before it’s too dark,” I stick my tongue at him.

“That is wise,” Fee nods then. “Heyyy, next time let’s eat with us!”

“… Me?” why, Ares looks so surprised…

“Yeah,” Larcei joins in to nod with her. “… Ares.”

… Ooooh God. AAAA—

“I’m—sorry,” I mutter sheepishly to him. ”You came as promised but I’m leaving you.”

“What did I tell you again and again?” he responds, inserting his key into his mount.

“… Don’t be?” I feel like squeaking somehow…

“Right,” he nods at me, bobbing his head to my girls as he puts on his helmet. “Ride safely.”

“You too!” Lana waves at him.

And then he’s gone. This is surreal. S-surreal. I wish I knew what he was about to tell me then…

… I wish I could force my tongue to muster the words I wanted, too.

* * *

 

Strawberries perhaps do have a healing power!

I felt so cared for yesterday—when I got home after Larcei drove me from Master Cakes, everything did feel better. Perhaps because there were people when I was so close to break down? Perhaps because they warmed up to… Ares?

I don’t know. One thing I’m sure of is that it really feels nice, having people to be there for you when you need it the most. Maybe because I’ve always been my own person without parental figure. All the sadness, troubles—even if they are a simple matter of weary feet and not a weary soul, I went through everything alone.

And orphanages or shelters aren’t all kind to us, you know—especially when you started growing into girlhood—then womanhood. Some people I talked to would say I sound so cheery, but it’s like only when the curtains are down that they said I sound wise beyond my years.

Well, I bet people would rather keep their innocence if life would be so kind!

Hnnn. This morning I feel lazier than usual… still have Professor Forseti later in the afternoon, though.

_Did you have fun?_

Huh? A text? As always, sent before I woke up. Then it has to be Ares.

_Thank you ^^ I did!_

_Good morning. You’re strong._

Well, he still does talk like an alleged human after all.

_Why does your day start so early~?_

Let’s see, how does one converse in Lion?

_Helping my mother. Training._

Training. Training—again, training.

_You can’t cook :P_

_I chop so I only need hands._

_P-please speak Human … ^^;;;_

I decide to just tap his profile then. Ares is best when confronted… ahem, being spoken to directly, so in order to understand Lion better, I shall embark on a noble quest!

**_anblacknight @dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Wake up sleepy sprout here’s a pushup variant to try_

**_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _I just saw this, you did those at five??_

**_anblacknight_ ** _I’m helping you getting your shodan this season. **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

**_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _Sigh you’re not human. What’s in the video?_

See, even his cousin said that! So he’s only alleged human!

**_anblacknight_ ** _Wide-grip push-up (for chest, shoulders, triceps). Tell me if you feel burned because if you don’t we can move to the diamond and staggered ones. **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

**_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _I want to get to the clapping ones like you did yesterday :|_

**_anblacknight @dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Only after you can take those three in at least 50 counts WITHOUT any burning muscle pain. We’re building up strength here, not damaging your body._

… He’s… _training_ Diarmuid? Not like, training _with_ Diarmuid? But then again, what for? Even if he is just that good at fighting, something feels different. Something feels…

**_dancedanerebellion  
_ ** _Seliph! Sorry to bother you so early but do you do push-up drilling? :O_

**_schalphy_ ** _  
Hello, Lene! Yes :) Is there something I can help you with?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Do you clap when you do push-ups? :O_

**_schalphy_ ** _  
I’m… again, sorry? :O_

Hnnn. Seliph did not catch it. So that can’t be, right? Perhaps Ares is just obsessed with… fitness? Haha, maybe it’s simply because in the end of the day the lion cub is still a guy after all.  Maybe I should ask Altena considering how close Ares and Altena seem to be, but at the same time, somehow I’m not sure! I mean—I _like_ Altena, but the idea of asking about Ares through her somehow just doesn’t sit well with me! I just got to know her, and God forbid she thinks I only befriended her because of Ares.

… Besides, seems there are things about Ares only she can understand…

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Anyway what’s the juicy info, Seliph~?_

**_schalphy  
_ ** _Oooh right! I forgot about that didn’t I, haha._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Lester mentioned a thing or two about the Art Night :O_

**_schalphy  
_ ** _Exactly. Interested?_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Well, if the schedule fits I’ll just show up :O need to let loose!_

**_schalphy_ ** _  
Do come. Next time me & Lester will make sure you’re safe :D_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Awwwhhh thank you!! Hehehe._

**_schalphy_ ** _  
If you’re cool with it we’d put you as a guest star ;D my boss will reach out to you for the $_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OMGGG REALLY?? Can I get a whisper of who will perform my dear benevolent Seliph XX_

**_schalphy_ ** _  
We’ve got Diarmuid singing millennium hits. Heard that theater king Iuchar is taking a squad to do a Disney a cappella! Leif and Nanna are hosting. Diarmuid needs background dancers, but you can do a solo as well. Lester is bringing his band so at least we’ll have some nice music for the night. The boss plans to hire only a few people to cover many things because that way she can pay you guys more >:)_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
SELIPH I FEEL IT, THE ADRENALINE RUSH. Also, omg Disney!! And shamelessly shameless… yay, money :P_

**_schalphy_ ** _  
Haha so it’s a yes then? Will it be fine if I tell Diarmuid to just contact you?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Finer than fine! He’s charming too! You’re not performing?_

**_schalphy_ ** _  
I’m just a humble barista. Many people already know me and the way they look at me is scary._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Seliphhh you’ve got creepers too?? I WON’T FORGIVE THEM, I’LL KICK THEIR BALLS, you’re too nice!_

**_schalphy_ ** _  
Oh no, no! I’m fine! I’m glad that people like me but they seem to always wait for me doing more that it’s scary. I really am just an ordinary college kid, you know? Haha._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Awh Seliph I’ll help you when it gets hard! Don’t worry, for me friends are friends :D_

**_schalphy_ ** _  
Likewise. Don’t hesitate to inform me if someone bothers you, okay? :) We’ll weed him out._

S-so, I’m going to be a guest star on Tirnanog Art Night, huh? Oh—my—God. I mean. I MEAN, WEEEEEE!!

… Ahem.

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Good news = good mood ^^ the Look™ of the day. I’m sorry I got too much in my hand yesterday but we’ll get through the comments and everything else today… hopefully ^^;;;_

**_pheeew @dancedancerebellion_ ** _You’re a walking-breathing strawberry, haha!_

I smirk reading her recent comment. Alright, alright, admittedly the dress is a knee-length sleeveless soft pink one with a collar. There’s a belt-like accent on the waist which gives a flare impression on the skirt part. Aaaand, wait for it—strawberry fruit imprints! L-Larcei is right, I’m obsessed. Sobs.

**_gaebolg @dancedancerebellion_ ** _You seem to always know where to shop for the cutest things :O_

**_amalduh_ ** _Ikr?? **@dancedancerebellion @gaebolg** Oh hi lol_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I’ll probably should start making a list huh >:3 **@amalduh @gaebolg**_

**_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Haha, cute fits cute after all. Good morning, Lene ^^ **@dancedancerebellion**_

**_dancedancerebellion @dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Helloooo D~ thank you! :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _Unnecessary, pervert **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

**_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Good meowning Dear Cousin ;D **@anblacknight**_

**_anblacknight_ ** _… You think winking like that will defeat me? **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Hellooo as well Ares ;D **@anblacknight**_

**_anblacknight_ ** _… **@dancedancerebellion** ….. I need to get ready._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _ARES OMG HOLD ON **@anblacknight** DID I OFFEND YOU OR WHAT D:_

**_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _SERIOUSLY BRO **@anblacknight** HAHAHAHAHHH don’t worry **@dancedancerebellion**_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I don’t understand omg but alright then **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

**_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Anw heard from **@schalphy** you’d be my dancer? **@dancedancerebellion**_

**_anblacknight_ ** _… She’ll be your WHAT? **@dialdfordiarmuid @dancedancerebellion**_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Yes! ^^ Let’s talk about this later, I’ve got to solo as well! **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

**_anblacknight @schalphy_ ** _… Dishonorable, Chalphy. You DISGUST me._

**_schalphy @anblacknight_ ** _Hello Ares :) … I’m sorry, what? O_O;;_

**_anblacknight @schalphy_ ** _you sold **@dancedancerebellion** to entertain **@dialdfordiarmuid**?!_

**_schalphy_ ** _… I think you misunderstand ^^;;; oh, Lordy **@anblacknight @dancedancerebellion**_

**_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _ARES **@anblacknight**_

**_anblacknight_ ** _WHAT? **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

**_gaebolg_ ** _... Ares **@anblacknight**_

**_lightprincess_ ** _A r e s **@anblacknight**_

**_heyimnotaplant_ ** _Ares my dude **@anblacknight**_

**_thunderingwithpride_ ** _Oh, my, Nordion **.** You REALLY are no Saias. **@anblacknight**_

**_righteously_ ** _Oh, Ares **@anblacknight**_

**_darkscion_ ** _Oh, peasant. You and peasantry quip. **@anblacknight**_

**_friegish_ ** _I commend your creativity **@anblacknight** But perhaps you watched too many action movies._

**_pheeew @anblacknight_ ** _Out of curiosity, are you truly human if at all?_

**_larceiheyhey @anblacknight_ ** _Out of curiosity as well—are you normally this dumb?_

**_etluxintenebrislucet @anblacknight_ ** _I’m sorry—m-my sister is being sold, Coach N??_

**_anblacknight_ ** _Huh? Why did everyone mention me all at once? **@dancedancerebellion**_

… Good God. I guess I’ll contact Diarmuid later through Instagram then. Ah, perhaps his workout sessions with Ares is aimed to improve his stamina since he’s going to sing and dance? Must be it then! Off I go, then. Otherwise I’ll keep procrastinating with all these Instagram silliness if I stall! Hnnn.

“Coirpre?” I get out of my room, all dressed-up and ready to leave.

“Nnnn,” I can hear him yawning loudly at the pantry. He’s there, opening the fridge and is now pouring orange juice into a glass. “Hi, Sis,” his eyes widen when seeing me.

“Seliph is my friend, nobody is selling anyone,” giggling, I ruffle his hair. He is not a scaredy cat, but I’ll gladly give out that sense of reassurance he needs. Nobody will part us again. Nobody. “I’m going to get paid again soon, anyway, so eat a lot today, alright?”

“Oh. Haha. Coach N is eccentric but I know he’s a decent man,” Coirpre nods, looking so satisfied.

“A decent man?” nudging him, I set the toasts into a plate for us. Something tickled me when he said it.

“Yeah!” Coirpre yawns again, rubbing his eyes. “He’s strict but never yells at any kid except just to make sure whatever he’s asking for be heard across the field. I told him I felt dizzy, and he put me at the bench.”

The conversation with Ares I had at Tirnanog went through my mind again. “So you were… sick?” now I’m feeling guilty. Perhaps I should believe him more. After all, my Coirpre is not a mischievous kid!

“I was just so, so sleepy,” he yawns. Again? “But today I’ll go all-out so he puts me in the main team!”

“That’s the spirit,” my voice may as well come off rather awkward now. “You know, Coirpre, I’ve been thinking. If you really are unwell, perhaps we should…”

“Nooo. I don’t want to see a doctooor.”

“I know it’s unpleasant, but if you’re sick, you can’t play,” I huff, my hands are on my hips now. “And don’t bring up the subject of bills with me, Coirpre. It’s for me to think, not you.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re still my older sister,” Coirpre responds wryly, emphasizing on the adjective.

“Nice to remind you again then,” I set his breakfast toast before him. “Loving you does not mean letting you do anything you please knowing well it’s destroying you.”

“I’ve never commented on you dancing late-nights,” he slowly counters.

“It’s different. I’m the breadwinner,” I grin then. “I’m not doing this just to chaperone you out of nothing. Really, Coirpre, even I get tired and unwell sometimes. So let’s not keep secrets between us, alright?”

Huh, he knocks the butter on the table! “Perhaps I’m unfit for the field…”

“… Coirpre?”

“… I’ll never be as fast as Ced anyway…”

Huh?

“I’ll never be as strong as the striker kids either. Could only stare if they beat me up.”

“What are you talking about? Just do your best, Coirpre. You are you, and no matter what, Ced is never going to be you,” I pat him from over the table. “And I’m always your biggest fan.”

“I guess…” he spares me a thin smile.

“I’m leaving now! Let’s have a nicer dinner, I’ll cook,” I grin. “Remember, I’m proud of you.”

“Alright,” he gives me a hug. “Uh—Lene?”

“What~?” Hehe, perhaps it won’t hurt to have my favorite wedges on this time.

“… Take care of yourself too, alright?”

“Of course! And you too. We can’t afford losing each other,” without thinking anything anymore, I quickly envelop him into a bear hug. “Never again, Coirpre.”

“Hnnn,” he hums, tightening his hug around me. “I’ll get that damn science project done, I swear.”

“NOT even finished yet?” I pull his hair playfully. “I tell you what, I’ll be home early and we’ll do it.”

“I Googled too much and ended up having too many inspirations and that’s confusing,” he sheepishly scratched his head. “And I’m torn between making a dynamo and a solar-something. Nothing wows the class like screaming SAVE THE EARTH after all. Besides…”

“Hnnn~?”

“I know you can’t do it.”

“… Do what, Coirpre?”

“Well, carpentry and all that, Sis,” he shrugs. “And I need something quick too after all.”

“… Oh…”

“I’ll wash the plates! Bye, Lene~!”

“Eh—yes.”

My, what a bummer…

* * *

 

I _know_ there are many things in this world I just can’t do. First—alright, breaking another man’s ribcage the way Altena and Ares can. The way Seliph can. And—sigh, the way Larcei can. B-but…

Ahhh. Why do I feel so sad out of a sudden?! It’s so heartbreaking, somehow. That he can’t do better because I _can’t_ do better. Is that… the case? Why, suddenly I remember when Ares told me to also take care of myself because Coirpre may hate himself even more thinking he’s burdening me.  And now my little brother seems to already dislike being chaperoned.

… It seems Ares understands him at the things I don’t….

Why, now I’m the one feeling down. Sigh.

“… Brooding in daylight, Miss Bragi?”

Larcei pokes my ribs. Startled, I quickly get a hold of myself, meeting eyes to eyes with Professor Forseti. His braided green hair is neatly draped over his shoulder, but definitely he doesn’t appear _happy._ “I’m—sorry,” mumbling, I tumble on my file folder containing all the notes and summaries I took when studying Ares’ book, including the additional personal notes I got from the notebook he showed me.

Forseti’s eyes narrow upon seeing my stuff. “You may be interested in meeting me at my office.”

“What? No!” I shout out of reflex, quickly clasping my lips together as my face turns fiery red.

“… No?” he repeats, in a way as if I just grew a third head.

“I’m—sorry, Professor,” swallowing hard, I gather my notes with me. “Y-yes. Of course.”

“Good. After this, then,” he merely nods, resuming teaching again. Art history proceeds as always, and I try to keep my face straight even though my mind is practically swirling with… _stuff_ at this point. And suddenly everything sucks. Like the girls I coach bond with me, yet my own little brother seems to distance himself away from me each day.

Somehow I’m feeling so weird. Like, I keep making it clear that I want to communicate through my dances. How do I instill positivity—presenting dances which make people forget their misery if I fail my brother? I’ve got gigs coming up. I should stop brooding and feeling melancholic like this. Besides, I’ve got so much to think about already—about Ares. About how my stomach knots when he’s around but somehow I don’t resent him for it. The kind of knotting feeling in the stomach but not that kind of hunch in your gut which makes you worried.

… Gods. Can it be that I… fail as a dancer too, not just as Coirpre’s sister?

“Lene?”

I gasp. Larcei’s face is close to mine, looking all concerned and worried. “Ah—yes?”

“You know, Lene, maybe if you’re not feeling it, you should…” she replies, retracting her words.

“I’m feeling so much lately,” slumping, I lay my head on the desk deliberately. “First thing first I feel like Coirpre is drifting away from me. Why do I feel like a failure—exactly at things I want to do nicely?”

“Perhaps the incident…” she speaks again, and like prior, reining her words back.

“I’m alright,” I pat her clasped hands. “It could have been worse but I’m not… losing anything. I mean—“

“We’re friends. You don’t need to pretend to be okay when you feel you’re not,” she pats my shoulder back. “And failing? Lester said Seliph planned to schedule you for the Art Night at Tirnanog.”

“I guess…” I try to smile. I can’t make people any more worried than they already have.

“Go get Forseti,” Larcei grins. “Remember—no matter how much he wants to overlord us in the end we’ll still be dad-shaming him.”

“God. Is Fee’s mom better now?”

“Haven’t asked,” she shrugs. “You know what—ask him. Just straight ask Forseti.”

“Already planned to, honestly.”

“… You’re fearless,” Larcei’s eyes twinkle. “First Ares, then Forseti.”

Now now, somehow that commentary makes me blush. But the show must go on anyway, so I can’t really waste time trying to suplex Larcei for her Ares comment. Sighing again, I drag my reluctant paces to the office room where I’m supposed to meet Professor Forseti. Students are pouring out of classes like me as lecturers collect their things to move on to the next class. Hmmm, is Leif nearby? The class next to me has to be finance or accounting.

“Hi,” Meng waves as I pass by. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah,” I can only smile even though she says it like she’s gleaming. Darn, I forget that Leif is not the only business or economics major I just happened to know.

“Why, not eating concealer today?” she hovers above me.

“Did you?” I roll my eyes at her. Just my luck, Scipio strolls out. I really want to eat hay and a horseshoe at the same time now, forgetting the next class room had a geology class STEM lords like Scipio attended. And speaking of the devil, he just finished with his class too! Is today cursed or what?

“Well, well, the little internet whore,” he mutters like the virus he is. If these two are dating, no wonder Jugdral-U has cancer. “What’s the hurry about, Lene?”

“Forseti,” I roll my eyes even more at him. “Shush, Scipio. Did you kiss your mom with that mouth?”

He glares. And I glare back. Larcei is still around, I’m sure people will talk later. I feel like sometimes Scipio wants to pull a Julius so bad. Tough luck—not even Julius ever calls me that. See, he has to be pretty shitty when Julius has some decency!

“You’re seducing Forseti now?” Meng laughs, Cruela de Vil-style as she sways my ponytail back and forth.

“Get a grip,” I shake my head, casually step on her gladiator sandal-covered toe _with my wedges._ She shrieks, glaring at me, and Scipio looks awkward like he wants to deck me because Meng hounds him for it yet thrown in between out of moral question. Oh, so the virus can still experience moral conflict?

Who cares. I leave these virus lovebirds and drag my legs again to Forseti’s. Larcei is _grinning_ at me. I hate to have to say this, but I do feel a bit better that I smirk back at her. Now, to meet the dragon…

Professor Forseti is at his desk. Wew, he’s fast. It’s almost like he’s _flying_ to get there! Knocking softly on the door, the other lecturers who share the office with him turn their heads at me. Everyone, everyone but Professor Forseti who is in the middle of writing something.

“Hi, Professor Forseti,” gulping, I approach him. He stops writing to look at me.

“First things first—this concerns your paper.” S-straight to the point? O-okay then. Aaaa—

“Alright,” I brace myself for the worst. Perhaps he’ll say I’m bluffing that I need to redo everything?

“The draft is excellent and you don’t need anything much to add,” he speaks in a blunt manner, handing the paper back to me. “Did you receive any help crafting this?”

Oh—gods. “Did you… suspect me of plagiarism, Sir?”

“Did I say so, Miss Bragi?”

“Y-you did not.”

“Landscape architecture department offered a good partnership?” he snickers, scanning the draft to get to the bibliography and reference section. He must have recognized Ares’ class because I mentioned it out of directly quoting his notes! Uhhh!

“That’s—private, Sir, I’m afraid.” Why is he asking me this?! Ooooh my God.

“… I heard from Fee that you’ve been struggling lately.”

“I’m—sorry?” my eyes are _bulging_ now.

He chuckles. “I may not do that Instagram thingy like young people do, but the wind flows everywhere.”

“… Still private, Professor,” I bite my lips, my voice being uncertain because… what does he mean?

He is still glued to his chair in a casual manner like he did not just try to pry into my life. Suddenly he opens his drawer, drawing a roll of… what—cash?!—out of it. “Here.”

“Excuse me?” I know you shouldn’t yell at your lecturers, but I _almost_ did.

“There’s seven hundred there. If your fridge is running out of fuel again, come see me.”

“I mean—Sir,” I put a great emphasis on the honorific. Why, sure, I’m so annoyed now. Offended, even!

“Not enough for groceries?”

“Not that,” I quickly stop his hands when he looks like he’s ready to reach for his wallet. “Why?”

He pauses. “Do I need a reason to show clemency?”

“Sure you do,” I grit my teeth. “You just—pried into my private life and… first the paper. And then this.”

“... Right,” he closes his eyes for a second. “… You are a daughter of a very dear old friend of mine.”

I need to clutch his desk upon hearing that. “You’re saying—you know my mother.”

“The peerless blossom of the battlefield, we dubbed her then,” he exhales, opening his eyes again. “Sharp petals, fierce tongue, undeterred sharp eyes. She is a bonfire, that dear Silvia. Back then when I was merely a wayward bard in the world of musicology, I used to serenade her dances. We got modest but faithful crowds everywhere we went.”

“Y-you said _is_ ,” my voice croaks. “S-so she’s still alive. Please tell me she is. Please, Mr. Forseti.”

“I did not say whether she is or she isn’t.”

“Sir,” trembling, I whisper to him. “Please. Don’t do this to me, Professor. I beg of you. I _beseech_ you.”

“Before we went on our separate ways, she asked me to look after you,” as if I’m not here, he recounts, in the manner of a minstrel playing his mandolin to retell an elegy. “And so here I am, fulfilling that. If you encounter any difficulties, come find me. That is all, Miss Bragi,” he gets up from his chair. “And your paper is good. Put more depth in it and I want you to present it next week. At our usual hour.”

“… You’re just going to… to leave like that after dropping a nuclear bomb?” I tug on him out of reflex.

He turns around, releasing his sleeve from my grip. “I’d like for you to not touch me.”

“But you just…”

“And I’m not saying you shouldn’t cross to the architecture department to enrich your paper,” he nods. “I need my coffee. If you plan to wait there until the day ends—tough luck, young lady.”

“Are you—serious now…”

“… There has to be a certain circumstance if a parent thinks leaving their child is for the best interest because I can assure you, parents who truly love their children would let themselves combust and rot first before having to forego what they created with love,” he smiles sadly at me. “That said, your parents love you very much and exactly because they are that they have to be separated from you.”

“Please don’t speak in cryptic,” I whisper. “I can’t accept it. Why left me if they cherished me?!”

“Perhaps someday you’ll meet her again,” he opens his palm. “The breeze says so. You also have that kind aura about you just like… Claude. Sufficient of himself that he shared a lot with many people. A lot.”

“What…”

“Your father,” he responds casually. “And maybe someday. At the right time when everyone’s ready.”

“… Can’t I contact my mom at least?”

“The path will open when it decides so. Sometimes people are like that—come and go, and the Earth keeps spinning, spinning… making us to go on with our lives the way the wind blows when the season is right,” he nods. “And I’m not Silvia. I can’t tell you the things she is supposed to tell you herself.”

“… I… suppose…” I clutch on the desk again, feeling so, so utterly weak.

He pats my shoulder. “She will be proud of you, for sure. That’s all I can say… Lene.”

… It’s almost like he knows I’m having all these thoughts… “Mr. Forseti?”

He turns around.

“I—heard from Fee that her mother is sick,” I gather my courage. I don’t care if he thinks I’m taking my revenge because he just talked about my mother. “Perhaps you should—you should be home too.”

He chuckles.

“I don’t—mean disrespect, b-but…” oh, Lordy. D-dear God, w-what did I—

“Formidable like your mother, aren’t you,” he sighs melancholically… “Don’t worry. I’m grabbing my coffee on the go and I already cleared my schedule. This month will only have me teaching.”

“Oh!” I beam at him.

“Glad we reached an understanding,” he smiles a little, seamlessly exiting the office with his briefcase in hand. His footsteps are light as if he’s floating in the air…

I get out of the office. Larcei is there, anxiously waiting on me while Fee peeks behind her with a pack of Chocopie biscuit. “What did he say?” Larcei asks curiously.

“Should I tell my dad that you…” Fee pushes the box to us. “He didn’t give you a hard time, I hope?”

“He said…” _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale…_ I smile at Fee, hugging her. “He’ll be home. For a month straight.”

Fee drops her biscuit box. Larcei stands with her jaw agape. Before I know it they hug me so tightly, and red-nosed Fee mumbles words of gratitude I can’t fathom because my eyes start to get blurry as well. She hugs me, hugging me as if I just saved her life while Larcei wipes her eyes with her sleeve. D-did I make Larcei.. _cry_? The tough Larcei? O-oooh my God.

“You’re so kind,” Fee whispers, again and again. “S-so sweet. Gods. I really—am thankful we’re friends.”

“Sssh, it’s alright~!” my cheerful tone quickly takes control.

“I really didn’t expect you to actually do it,” Larcei murmurs. “God—that took me by surprise.”

“Was he angry?” Fee whispers again. “D-did he… snap?”

I shake my head, smiling… without telling them he dropped a bomb about my mother. “Not at all.”

“I hope he won’t lash at me at home, though,” Fee bites her lips. “He knows we’re friends…”

“He won’t~!” I wink at her. “No need to anxiously drive your mom to the hospital alone.”

“So sweet, aren’t you,” Larcei murmurs. “Perhaps that’s why that mullet blonde loves you.”

Huh? Hold on.

… Eeeeeh?? ….

* * *

 

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Forseti truly approved ^^ but he wanted me to deliver a presentation TToTT_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Oh, that’s good._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I’m nervoussss! Let’s brainstorm again later ^^_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I’m sure a dancer masters a stage better than me. Also, anytime._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You know what, I’ve got an idea. Maybe we should meet up again._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I don’t mind._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Well it will be nice to make kickass notes ^^ he even approves of you_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Of me?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OH SORRY I mean utilizing arch dept’s books & resources omg I’m so sorry_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Haha_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
AAAA GET ANGRY PLEASE_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
What a curious request._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
If you don’t like it you should tell me, you know? ^^_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Don’t like what?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Being close to me? :OO_

I—typed that? Good God I—totally said that!! ‘Being close to me’? L-like what again? S-sigh!

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I see._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Brooding…_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Hmmm?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I feel it ^^;;; t-the lion energy._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
That’s what I wanted to ask you since you were with me when I presented my blueprint._

S-so he’s not actually THAT unfeeling. He must be feeling that too—and finally he’s going to be honest with me…

… That I actually annoy him but he’s just too nice to say that bluntly at my face?

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Ummm—yes?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Are you actually human?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… wHaT :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Because you are strange._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
MEANIEEEE the only alleged human here is you and I know people will agree!! -_-_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I’ve been using the sports hall many times. I’m older than you and I’m a senior._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Perhaps by centuries ;P_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I drive around here all the time too._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Well, you have a mount ^^_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I’ve been to Maera Hall a couple of times because there were talk shows and panels._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Alright…_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
But when you were there, things felt differently._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Huh? Like what? :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Like I’m not bored._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Heheee perhaps because I annoy you with all the poking and bantering all the time?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
If it’s just that, I’ve got other people who’d just do that already. Even Nanna jokes, you know?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Aresss she’s a human of course she can joke ^^;;;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Is she? What if my uncle was secretly an elf?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
If your uncle is the man called Finn at Master Cakes, then I doubt it—his hair is blue._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Hmmm. Reasonable._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You don’t need this long-ass prologue if you’re just going to say I’m annoying._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
That is exactly my problem. I can’t._

… Oh?

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You can try. Really though. Just type it. Besides, you’re not looking at my face, should be… easier…_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Exactly because I don’t find you annoying._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Huh? :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
See, the odd thing is if you’re around I feel strong._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Alcohol? O_O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I don’t drink so early or when I know I’ll have class after, rabbit._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… You smoke weed then?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
No. Waste of money._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hmmm, strange. I really can’t help you then, sorry. Oooh, wait. See a psychologist? :OO_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
See, that’s why I couldn’t like the selfies you posted._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Because I’m strange? :O I’m so confused now…_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I wanted to mindlessly like them but each time I was about to, couldn’t move._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
... But you liked my dance videos and I still have my face you know ^^;;;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Different. There, I only watch movements._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Well considering you’re sadistic enough to tell me you didn’t find me pretty, what’s the problem?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
See, that one too. ‘Pretty’ is not enough._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Ares? :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Hrrrrhhhh this is frustrating. Perhaps I should challenge you into a sword fight?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
…. I… come again?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I will challenge Leif. I’ll spar Altena until we grossly sweat and get hungry. I’ll deck Dickwad._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
SELIPH._

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Alright, I’ll deck Chalphy. Anytime. Anywhere._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Altena is a Chalphy too, y’know._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Female Chalphies > male Chalphies at any given century._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You… are you truly human at all… ^^;;;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
See, but you’re different. I can’t and won’t do those things to you. And I’ll never._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Maybe you drank Respect Women juice growing up ^^;;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Is that a new brand? Never found one at any shop._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
No, that’s not… never mind. Sigh._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Now you understand why I’m confused. Why is everything warmer when you’re nearby?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Warmer?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Right. Then I feel like I can do anything. Including eating parfait._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Awww you’re no longer waging a war against parfaits? ^^_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
No. I HATE parfaits. Sugar demon._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Oh. I thought you’re cured. Because if you are, let’s eat some since you never ^^_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Like that. Heggghh. Like I know I’d follow if you drag me._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You’re growling over… parfaits? ^^;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Alright, then don’t eat parfaits… ^^;;;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
And the strange thing again—I know I don’t mind eating what you like._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Perhaps because what I like aren’t what you typically like so you’re curious? ^^_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I’m not a cat._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Technically, same species~ \^O^/_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… And just like that…_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Just like what? ^^ Hnnn~?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
If you smile like that…_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
A celery got stuck in my teeth the other day? X_X_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
On my honor, no._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Alright…_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _And then you winked and…_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Like this ;D kind of winking? IRL?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
There. Hhhh. There, and I’m weak. Fuck._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Eeh????_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
My apologies. I wasn’t cussing at you._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Alright? … O_O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
This is so weird. My stomach gives me funny feelings too._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Maybe you should tone down your spicy food intake a little bit?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
My tolerance is high._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Won’t hurt to get checked. Remember what you told me at Tirnanog? ^^_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
You are reasonable as always. Which only makes everything harder for me._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Harder?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Like if you need something I’ll just do that and I don’t mind._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Now that’s… strange :O_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Right? I guess I’ll go get a check-up tomorrow._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
My prayers will always be with you, Ares :)_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Please don’t smile. I can’t contain it any longer._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Excuse… me?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
At this rate, I can’t escape you even if I want…_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Eh—Ares?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… And somehow I do not want to._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ares??_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Weird, isn’t it?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Oooh maybe you caught… heat wave? The night is hot._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Hmmm…_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Perhaps you should wear something more comfortable ^^_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
What makes you think I have my shirt on?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
…_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _I’m not naked._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _OH._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Good night, rabbit._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Y-yes!! Yes, good night! Omg…_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Why are you flustered?_


	11. Noctifer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Noctifer_ : night bringer; evening star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh my God I want to deal with Coirpre's arc thoroughly, and no, we're not done with him yet. On top of that I've been planning to have Ares spilling out his story and I decided to just combine it here because the moment is fitting (I think? -nervous laughter-)
> 
> And yeah, I mirror some elements from the plot in the game. I started writing this around summer 2018 (and let the drafts rotting putrid ever since lol) so when Ares said winter, he meant winter 2017.
> 
> Anyway... [ insert another apology for posting yet another long chapter here ]
> 
> ... This is such a disgustingly long chapter lmao I'm so sorry OTL
> 
> Other updates will follow suit because I've been busy and half-dead since Monday.

I’m fidgeting.

No, not because the weather is rather hot, not because I’m feeling under the wind. But the truth is I’m back to Tirnanog, hoping to catch the sight of Diarmuid since I’ll be here to check on the stage they start prepping for the Art Night. Well, I admit I’m a little bit nervous. And not only because this is my first time to be at Tirnanog again after the… incident, but also because I wonder how I’ll coordinate with Diarmuid.

I do think he’s charming—after all he seems to be approachable and easily talked to, but at the same time I don’t really know him well because the only glimpses I caught of him is through Instagram so far. And now that I expect to meet him without Ares around, what kind of person is he?

By the time I walk into Tirnanog, a blue head is quickly swirling around as the person’s hand waves at me. Seliph is standing behind the counter with a gentle smile on his face as always, and he quickly calls on me. “Well?” he smiles then. “What can I get for the brave lady today?”

“Awh, Seliph. The usual caramel frappe, please,” chuckling, I lean in closer to the counter. “I’d like to inspect the stage for orientation and everything. I’m not disappointing a client, you know?”

“Sounds professional to me,” he laughs back. “Are you waiting on anyone?”

“Diarmuid, and probably Iuchar. I don’t know who the background dancers are,” I reply to him, fixing my dress as I slide conveniently on a nearby high-chair. “Now you’re acting like my doorman too?”

“If necessary,” Seliph grins. “Alright, it’ll be Diarmuid and Iuchar then. Other guys, off the list,” he places the newly-made caramel frappe before me. “On the house,” he whispers then.

“Hnnn. Thanks a lot,” I whisper back. “Really, you guys are pampering me.”

“If that helps, why not?” he laughs, roasting a handful of coffee beans. “You’ve been a nice friend for us too. I probably don’t really follow these things you’re doing, but I read your responses and all that.”

“Hey, Seliph, let’s take a photo,” I pull him closer. “The sky is big enough for everyone, you see?”

“See, my point proven,” Seliph nods, but he obeys regardless. Snapping a photo of us together, I proceed to post it on Instagram. This can actually help to normalize everything, right? After all I do not want to _hate_ Tirnanog. Why, I won’t let anyone have that power over me! Tirnanog is a great place to hang out and study, not just because of the free Wi-Fi. The ambience is nice. I have a favorite table with soft pink cushions I love. The price is reasonable because this really is a student-oriented place. Part of my livelihood is here, and I’ve made nice acquaintances with people who also work on stage like me. Besides, now I get to befriend Seliph closer. I even get to know Lester—the brother of one of my best friends. What’s not to love? That creeper must go, and I’m staying!

Right, nice tribute from Seliph. Aren’t I a fighter? Mwahaha!

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Caramel frappe and a good friend :) **@schalphy** thank you! I’m UNDEFEATABLE!~_

Now, to check on the notifications since I’ve been neglecting Instagram as a form of self-care. Time to get back on my feet. Besides, what was the song I proposed to my cheer team again? Girls on Top!

**_dialdfordiarmuid @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Haha, you’re cute! You fought **@schalphy**? :P_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Where are you my singer, I’m already here! **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

**_dialdfordiarmuid @dancedancerebellion_ ** _I’m close by, my dancer!_

Oh, alright. No problem! I think I was pretty wise for not mentioning that my coffee is free. Otherwise poor Seliph will need to deal with promo and giveaway inquiries. Now on to other notifications…

**_queenbee_ ** _Recently in your makeup review video you said the product wasn’t so viable for people with tan skin. Really? Maybe it’s just you who couldn’t color-coordinate **@dancedancerebellion**_

**_glowinggg @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Right, you’re gonna call everything that doesn’t suit you bad??_

**_littlekitbox_ ** _**@dancedancerebellion** It’s a well-known brand too. _

**_blegh_ ** _**@dancedancerebellion** And then you favored… dupes and drugstore kits? HAHAH Lene la del Barrio!_

… Maybe I should keep my Instagram-fasting longer. Hnnn!

“Hellooo!”

I hear a cheery voice suddenly approach me from behind, and with it a hand conveniently gives me a back pat. Or—well, if a triceratops is giving me a back pat, that is. Out of reflex I gag and cough because it’s so enthusiastic with… ahem, power that I thought my lungs will explode.

“Gosh. Oi, you alright?”

I turn around, finding Diarmuid’s cheery expression basically goes a bit pale when I cough and nearly spitting out the frappe I’m drinking. Ah, right, it’s Diarmuid! He dresses as like as I met him for the first time at Crusader’s Ward—again, with a top mullet and ripped jeans with a band t-shirt. … M-maybe being blonde with a mullet and nice strength is a requirement to be a member of the Nordion household?

“Ahh. R-right, you startled me,” I quickly take a couple of tissue plies to wipe my face. “Now let’s get to work~! Or do you want some drink as well?”

“Not a bad idea,” Diarmuid smirks, conveniently walking up to the counter. “Hey there, dude! Got some chocolate smoothie?”

Seliph turns around again, smirking back. “Yeah. Sweet?”

“Of course! How come smoothie isn’t?” Diarmuid takes out his wallet to pay.

“Haha, you’re a total opposite of Ares!” I can’t resist commenting! Diarmuid simply grins with a playfully smug smile on his face, looking tickled too by what I just said.

“… I figured.”

“Aaaa!”

I’m not sure who screamed harder—me or Diarmuid—but never mind, we _did_ , considering Ares hovers behind us. Diarmuid quickly finishes his payment, feigning to gulp while I smile at him. “Hi~!”

“What brought you here?” Diarmuid says, leaning against the counter looking so utterly surprised that Ares showed up at Tirnanog—on his own like that. I can see Seliph is peeking behind the other blonde’s shoulders, looking rather nervous. It should be clear that he does not fear Ares, but nevertheless it should also be clear that Seliph is as surprised as we are, and he’s anxious of what may happen next because… I understand, not everyone can read Ares that simply.

… N-not to say I can, but I trust Ares still…

“Cappuccino,” he answers in a simple manner, his eyes land on mine. “Can you, Chalphy?”

“Of course,” Seliph smiles, looking so relieved.

“Gods,” Diarmuid mutters as if half of his soul just tried to leave his body. “You scared us.”

“Not me,” I shake my head sincerely. “Umm—“

“No, huh?” Diarmuid returns his attention back on me. Uh-oh, that cheeky smile. Somehow I feel shy, but at the same time—why is Ares scary just for popping at Tirnanog for some coffee?!

“No!” I nod then. “Why, he just wanted some coffee. Hehehe~ a cappuccino, hnnn~?”

“… Starts growing on me. Somehow,” he purses his lips. “Chalphy, I saw the poster outside.”

Poster? Oh, I didn’t notice it when I came here. Perhaps Lester just tapped another? Diarmuid seems to sense my sudden wariness of everything. Ares addressed Seliph directly. There’s a counter between them, and as much as I trust Ares not to just randomly pick a fight against _anyone,_ I’m a bit worried.

“What do you want to know?” Seliph, ever unflinching, replies with a smile on his face.

“… Decided yet?”

… Decided? “I’m sorry—what poster? Uhhh—may I, or is this like some manly secret for a closed club?”

“Manly secret?” Seliph raises his eyebrows. Seconds later, his chuckles fly out. “Ah, dear Lene. No, no, besides why would a secret be written on a poster for everyone to see?”

“Oh, alright…” I defer my head, feeling so embarrassed. But I see that Ares has that faint smile on him, so I can only hope my behaving like a potato helps defusing the potential tension between them.

“It’s the season again, sports competition,” Seliph replies, looking a bit sad while Ares sips his drink with a straight face. Even Diarmuid looks pensive for a while. “After the Art Night. Student athletes will play.”

“Oh,” I respond. “H-hold on—you are…?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head gently. “But there will be matches. Open matches…”

“I’d like to register my cousin,” Ares interrupts, putting down his cup on the counter. “… In my stead.”

“Ares…”

“Victory, his right. Defeat, my responsibility. I’ll be his mentor,” Ares speaks again. Why, is it just me or does he sound rather… melancholic? Like there’s this angst looming over him like that! “Then the Crusaders are complete. After all, rank aside Diarmuid is genuinely good and he’s also a—Nordion.”

“You… trust me?” Diarmuid mumbles. “Man, Ares. I mean—“

“Both of you can, you know…” Seliph wants to say again, but it’s like something holds his tongue.

“I told you not to push your luck, Chalphy,” Ares growls at him. “Satan be fucked, I’ve no idea why I still care, but well…” he glances around, exhaling. “Perhaps I do. But still, your decision, cousin.”

“Ares, wait—“

“I’m busy,” Ares roughly hisses at Seliph. “Say something one more time, and I deck you.”

… Somehow I know he won’t. He just wishes Seliph won’t push him to talk. I don’t know what this is all about; what I’m quite sure right now is that Ares seems… hurting. Like it already took a lot for him to come here, and now I suspect he bought his drink as a pretense so that he could speak to Seliph. And perhaps he didn’t expect to find me and Diarmuid here, considering… who would have thought that of all places around the campus where he can be, he chose Tirnanog—the place he hates?

“I’ll think about it and if I take it, I’ll work hard with you,” Diarmuid has that resolved look on him…

“I mark your words,” Ares also looks equally resolved. Seliph and Diarmuid are still—I don’t know, amazed, appalled, whatever the right word to describe what just happened.

He’s turning away. I make a quick decision then—I need to do something. Perhaps this isn’t my place to intrude. To be honest it’s second for me, because my priority is…

“Ares. Ares, wait!” I run after him with his cup in my hand.

He stops. And suddenly I feel so small. Like—suddenly I doubt _me._ S-should I? There’s still a boundary that I can’t cross, right? After all, he never tells me anything about this. … But he stops though. So…

“… Yes?”

“Uh—you forgot your drink?” I hand the cup to him. He pauses again, looking surprised. Perhaps he left it on purpose because… because his original intention is fulfilled—talking to Seliph. But still… “Are you… alright? I—I really don’t want to like, spy on you, but I _swear_ that very moment you looked sad and—“

“… Sad?”

Uh-oh. D-did he hate it? Does he hate me now?

“And you don’t waste food!” my hand flies just like that, ticking him on the nose. He gasps a little, but without protesting furthermore he simply takes the cup I hand to him. He looks pensive that it’s almost like he’s contemplating the cup in his hand while his mind steers further away. I have no idea what it is about—I’m not in that close-friendship with Seliph yet and I don’t want to make Diarmuid to feel like I warm up to him just so I can dig into his cousin’s… I don’t know, past? So I pat his hand with a smile that refuses to leave my face. “… You actually liked it, didn’t you?”

Just like that, he looks at me back in a manner akin to snapping himself back to normal. I don’t know if he realizes what he’s doing, but as if testing my words he brings the cup into his mouth. “I suppose…”

“Then you have to finish it~!” I wink at him, gesturing to Diarmuid to come closer. “Now, the stage.”

“Sure,” Diarmuid looks relieved, obediently tailing me to the stage. “God. Lene, I owe you one.”

I shake my head. “There’s no need! Your cousin is not a beast.”

We walk to the stage while Ares picks himself up from the seat by the counter. He’s probably reluctant to be close to Seliph—and this time seeing his melancholic expression like that, it’s like he avoids having Seliph to try talking him into discussing something… emotional. He’s fiddling with his cup again, perhaps finally realizing that it’s only reasonable to stay until the cappuccino is completely savored rather than bringing it everywhere with him. After all, he’s not a fan of Tirnanog, and Seliph made the drink.

… Somehow I feel a bit proud that he took my advice. At the same time, I’m happy as well…

Ares carries his walk like he’s daydreaming, so either he’s still harboring thoughts or just couldn’t care less—I notice he seats himself in _my_ favorite spot; the table with pink cushion on the chairs. I’ll tease him about that later if he’s not in so much somber mood like this. … Or maybe I should so he lightens up?

The stage is undergoing redecoration, it seems. Perhaps they’re doing that when there aren’t many people around, because I catch Lester’s figure cleaning the floor. He spares a brotherly smile at me and nods at Diarmuid, giving me little details about how the floors may get a cover so it won’t be slippery considering we’ll dance and his own band will need to stash their equipment later. “Not my job, that one,” he smirks. “But at least this gives me a double pay.”

“Mind taking picture with me?” I grin.

“Oh, right. Selfie demon,” he jokes. “Is this peasant presentable enough for an Instagram diva like you?”

“Lesterrrr,” I roll my eyes at him. He chuckles, setting aside the broom he’s using. I snap a photo of us together standing under the stage, and then another—this time with Diarmuid being there with us.

“So, what will you do?” I ask Diarmuid. He climbs up onto the stage and gives me a hand, grinning.

“How does Livin’ la Vida Loca sound to you? Millennial enough?” he says then, testing his vocalization with the mic turned off by doing a typical warming up with a smooth _AaaaaaAaaaAaaa_ sound. “And I mean, literally millennial. You know the theme…”

“Back to 2000-something,” I nod. He makes a salute.

“Right. So teach me Latin dances. Well, I know you can’t make a dancer overnight, so the basics?”

“And I’ll be dancing around you,” I nod. “… Errr, passionately, I suppose?”

“Playful? You know, like the original video clip?” he ponders a bit. “Larcei and Iuchar will be my background dancers too. So, there will be four with us. You’ll be my woman, here at the stage.”

“I see! That should be neat… uh, Diarmuid? What’s wrong?”

“I-is it just me or is Ares glaring at me?” he chuckles nervously. “W-what gives?”

“Hnnn? Ares?” I crane my neck, waving at him with a wink. “Hellooo, lion cub on a pink cushion~!”

He gasps. And… h-huh, he spills his cappuccino??

“… Y-you… defeated him without lifting a finger,” Diarmuid looks at me like I’m Cleopatra or something.

“Well, he’s sitting on a pink cushion. And he said cute things don’t match him,” I ponder. “I guess you should bring more Master Cakes and make him eat them. Easy victory.”

“If I could,” Diarmuid chuckles nervously again. “How did you do that, with the pudding?”

“Awh. Now I’m embarrassed. Did it make a story in the Nordion’s lion den?” I scratch my head.

“Well, Aunt Grahnye wouldn’t shut up about it,” Diarmuid grins. “Especially when my mom was around.”

“Uhhh. Have no intention to dethrone Queen Lachesis,” I start to walk around the stage to get used to it. Diarmuid follows me from behind. “Well, I just shoved it at his face.”

“And h-he… accepted?”

“Yes? Why?” Hnnn? Why is everyone looking so… horrified if not confused like that?

“N-nothing. Perhaps you’re a different species,” Diarmuid shakes his head like I’m only alleged human.

“Worry not. That _is_ your cousin,” I stick my tongue at him. “Okay, can you start singing so we can do a quick choreography? This is like a concept art or a sketch of what we’ll do later! I’m going to teach you the basics, but honestly, I think the best part is just letting it out freely on the stage.”

“Oh, for sure. The song is lively and I myself don’t really like being confined by move sets,” he agrees. “Should I pull you closer like I’m hugging you?”

“That’s fine with me,” I guide his hands to perch on my hips.

“Excuse me then,” he smiles.

“Heheee, do you Nordions drink Respect Women juice or what?” chuckling, I let him, and before long his steps entangle with mine. He hums the lyrics, and I get him to move around me, which he happily obliges. “Don’t overdo it because you have to maintain your voice!” I say, twirling my hips around him. “Get the mic, Diarmuid~! Just shake your shoulders and hips a little bit and let your dancers do the rest.”

“Roger that~!” he starts singing, grasping the microphone.

_I feel a premonition  
That girl's gonna make me fall_

I hum beside him, my legs move back and forth, making a criss-cross and diagonal swings imagining when the stage is set alive with all the lights and music.

_Upside, inside out she's livin la vida loca  
She'll push and pull you down, livin la vida loca_

“I suppose at this part I’ll hold you again,” he announces, turning at me.

“Oh. Right,” I snake my arm around his waist, and he begins to push and pull me down. I follow his moves, throwing my weight behind and flip my hair as he pulls me back on my feet.

“You know what, maybe I can get an in-ear mic for you to back me up with the refrain,” he suggests, as his hands are neatly perched on my hips again to gently shake me. “And for Iuchar. He’s a theater guy, right? I imagine he can sing well. Nice background vocals we have then. Or will that tire you?”

“Just for this song? Then no,” I respond confidently. Boy, if only he knows how much a dancer puts for an all-out five-minute song! “So let’s redo this again.” He follows my every step, and we exchange a few more laughter on the stage. It makes me feel good that he seems to enjoy our session as well, because his steps only get to be livelier and smoother.

“You’re a good teacher,” Diarmuid looks satisfied, shaking his hips as he pushes against me. “I’ve never done this before. You make it so fun.”

“Awh. Now I feel flattered!” chuckling, I move closer. “Building up confidence is important. If you move awkwardly, it will transcend on your partner as well! And that’s how we get stage accidents.”

“Like a singer who forgets a line or a dancer tumbling?” he smirks.

“Like if you half-heartedly respond to your partner’s moves, it will break the magic on the stage,” I guide him to follow my rhythm—pulling when he moves closer, and presses back when he withdraws. “You’re the singer so you’ll be the center of attention. Take initiative and command your dancers.”

“Alright,” he nods. “Like…”

He grabs me, probably too strong than what I anticipate. His other hand holds me behind my back, which I’m thankful for since it helps me balancing on my feet. But he’s still new, and the new enthusiasm he finds makes him invigorated, just how he made me choke on my frappe. I nearly slip, my feet trampling on his and our bodies bump against each other, with my face against his chest. “Umm, you might want to control your power a little bit…”

“Oh. Oops,” he pulls me back in to steady me. “You okay there, Lene?”

“Y-yeah,” I rub my forehead. “See Diarmuid, moving should be like singing. Like, you don’t want to make it like you’re pushing every sound you make akin to powerful staccato in every line, no~? Like you conserve. And you move—stretching your vocal chords or whatever it is the equivalent in singing—it’s energetic, but at the same time…”

“… Contained?”

“Yes, contained!” I nod. “Hnnn? What’s wrong?”

Diarmuid grins sheepishly. “Ares said the same thing when he drilled me,” he scratches his head. “I’m good, he said—but my power is wild and unfocused that it’s… leaking.”

“I don’t understand…” why do I feel like Ares talked like a wise man on an action movie? Huh, my phone?

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Give Diarmuid this photo_

I open the file I just received. A selfie of Ares _glaring_ with his cup before him? That’s odd. Why didn’t he just come up here to talk to us. Still, I nudge Diarmuid to show him what Ares sent me.

Unexpected, Diarmuid gulps! “Tell him I’m not a pervert and that one was accidental.”

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _He said he’s not a pervert and that one just now was accidental._

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Good boy._

**_dancedancerebellion_**  
_… You THREATENED him?_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_Hmmm?_

“Lene, where are you going?” Diarmuid’s eyes widen when I huff, leaving him.

“Castrating a lion,” I mutter back, hopping off the stage right away like I’m falling free from a cliff. That really earns a _frightened_ look from the other Nordion, but I don’t care. I conveniently walk to the table where Ares is savoring the last drops of his cappuccino. “… Ares?”

He gasps. And with it, I smack his head with my purse while Diarmuid watches with a pale face.

“Now that takes care of it!” I grin, getting back to the stage.

“My liege,” Diarmuid laughs, showing me his phone which bears direct message from Ares.

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Tell her I yield._

I smirk.

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I’m benevolent so I won’t take you as POW ;D_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _… Don’t wink._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You yield, so you’ve got no power here ;P_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _... Right._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Why, you easily surrender to me again ^O^~ but Ares, what’s the story with Seliph~?_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _What’s the story with my cousin?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hnnn? Oh! I met her through Leif! We ended up snatching a gig at Tirnanog with her emceeing and me dancing. There was that time when she had some reforestation campaign so I buzzed her with_ _my IG ^^ she’s busy and our schedules often don’t match tho :(( but since then we followed each other just fine :)_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I mean Diarmuid._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Diarmuid? :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Never mind._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ares? O_o;;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… I’ll collect your questionnaire from the kids today._

* * *

 

Well, the session with Diarmuid ends up nicely! We conclude everything, and he says he’s down to practice with me again when our schedule permits. After all, we’ll need to rehearse everything then, and Larcei and Iuchar weren’t there with us. Iuchar may be pretty eccentric, but he’s serious with what he does, so I won’t be surprised if Larcei and him are already practicing. After all, Iuchar seems to run into Larcei more than what I can hope for at school, considering theater and media-related classes or projects tend to easily cross paths with each other while I only get to meet Larcei for art history.

Ares appeared rather… dark at Tirnanog. Dark-sad unlike dark-angry like what I witnessed when he first stepped into Tirnanog ready to punch Seliph in the face. I wonder what happened—his quip with Diarmuid aside, why, I have a feeling he’s rather… tormented?

Flipping a glossy magazine I randomly snatched at the train station, my mind is rather full now. And I hate to admit—of Ares? T-that can’t be, right? And I _know_ he and Diarmuid joke every so often, but that one just now felt rather different, like somehow I have this hunch he’d leap on the stage to kick Diarmuid’s ass if he accidentally hurt me!

Hnnn. Maybe I should stop worrying him. After all, he doesn’t even appear to be… _that_ disturbed. Am I making something out of nothing? But this is Ares we’re talking about, and he’s good at hiding… pain.

_If there’s something I’d want to tell girls—Google your date! Especially if you know nothing about him beforehand. Some of us did not dodge a bullet. If it’s too good to be true, perhaps it is!_

That line from this relationship advice column the glossy magazine I’m mindlessly reading somehow caught my eyes. Googling Ares? But he’s… not a douche. And we’re not on a date or about to go on a date. There isn’t anything that is too good to be true there—considering his father got into an accident and nearly fatally injured and all that? He never mentioned it again to me, so accusing him to use his story for a selling point or pity traction doesn’t sit well with me. Ares is honorable too, in his own way. Even if he isn’t saying much. Even if he’s an awkward dork like that.

I snuggle up with the sofa cushions around me. Well, so much for relaxing after classes and the Tirnanog rehearsal I had with Diarmuid! If I want to relax, I should put my mind at ease as well!

… But the idea of Googling something takes me back to… Coirpre’s searches somehow. Aaah, when will my brain give me a time to relax?! … And, right, sigh, the science project. I’ll make sure Coirpre does it this time, sigh. I don’t want to push him, but if he keeps his grade he may win a scholarship and then…

… Suddenly I feel a bit guilty. He’s not a burden—sure. If only our wallets will just… agree…

I decide to make myself a cup of tea, checking on my laptop in the process. If Ares will soon return the questionnaire to me, I may as well start writing the draft. I’ve submitted the idea just like what Saias asked—saying that I want to know if kids have similar schedule or routine like whether they all have breakfast or if most parents get them home by five, get them to wash themselves before dinner and all that, get them to drink milk—and checking how many hours they spend their time outside to play. And now, with physical activity such as sports with soccer as a unifying defining shared trait among the kids I interviewed, which is why I needed the boys Ares coaches.

I didn’t even realize I have bookmarked the Reddit AMA with Conote Restaurant because—sobs, I kept forgetting to check it back! Now that I have the time…

My eyes follow as I keep scrolling down. This girl, who calls herself Mareeta, is telling her unpleasant experiences working at Conote Restaurant and how they mistreated her. Wage being cut, ungodly shift, workers being treated like expendable pawns while enduring the guilt-tripping feeling that they always perform under standard and they can’t seek for protection because many of them—like her—were underage and even getting paid from literally under the desk. Mareeta said she was desperate because she just moved from Fianna and in need of money. When a kind boss backed her up, Raydrick got to make them butt heads? Wew. Tsk tsk. Sounds like this girl needs a legal advice—someone more powerful to tear down the power he has.

… Okay. Hold on. Wasn’t Raydrick Conote… the one who contacted Coirpre on Instagram?!

I quickly open another tab. Too bad that Coirpre already logged out, if not because of my own memory-cleansing routine including the virus scan I do regularly. Is this Raydrick guy still roaming around the internet, trying to trap some poor kids to work for him for meager money—sans protection and everything, preying on vulnerable teenagers?

… Is Coirpre… vulnerable? That can’t be. We may not have surpluses to be spent on a whim, but Coirpre isn’t vulnerable! I never let him go to bed hungry, and regardless of the circumstances, if any of us should forego food in order for another to eat, then I will be the one starving. I replace his things when they are broken, I hunt for seasonal garage sales for specific items such as winter coat and all that so I’m sure he also has what he needs to go by, just like other kids. I got him a phone, and if a textbook is too expensive for us to afford, I’ll find alternatives—like downloading from a pirated site or even has him studying at a public library. I mean… I’ll swim through hell and back just so his life experience is similar to other kids his age.

… I grew up in an orphanage. I KNOW what it feels to be different, to feel excluded and even horribly questioning whether my existence is even wanted at all—from such a young age. I know what it means to be orphaned, with mending my own clothes while other kids go to the mall with their parents. I know what real midnight party means—parting my dinner bread so I could eat the other half in the morning. That’s why I don’t want Coirpre to…

… And even if he has to suffer, he has me. That’s it. I’m not asking much…

Oh, there we go, feeling bummed again! Hnnn. I fiddle with my dress again, my foot lightly tapping against the floor. Now that I’m on a computer, s-should I Google… Ares?

Admittedly I want to know more about him! Hell, I don’t even know; I’ve never felt so strongly about a man before. Like, I don’t care if Iuchar is secretly a Libra or something—but just now I felt my cheeks burning because I found myself reading that glossy magazine’s zodiac column to see what it thought about Ares’. T-this is strange. Like, one of those sayings on the internet that says you don’t really care about another person until you start paying attention to their zodiac? BUT WHY DO I CARE SO MUCH about him?! Hahaha, what’s next, do I want to know his Myers-Briggs as well? R-ridiculous.

… Won’t hurt to know, though…

Aaah, stop it! Why is my brain making me to fight myself?!

… But it will be nice to be able to give something nice for the lion’s birthday…

Or maybe not? He’s got a mother who cooks like a kitchen god.

… Right. So what is it that I have to lose, anyway? I don’t even know the foods he likes. I mean—sure, as long as they’re not sweet, or even better, spicy. But that’s all. So it can be anything. So I don’t have anything to lose and it’s not like I’m stalking him. … Right? … I… guess?

I silently pray that I’m going to be absolved like the universe isn’t going to keep a tab on this for my bad luck because I quickly type his name into Google’s searching column. Making a mental note to not click anything the search results may link me to, I vow to stop at the first page and that’s it—merely confirming if the Ares I’ve been interacting with so far is indeed the real Ares Nordion and not a clone. What if there was another Ares Nordion whose identity got stolen or has ceased being human because his body was possessed by a demon or alleged extraterrestrial being after a horrible accident?

Errr. N-nice GPA though. Probably not summa cum laude-nice but it’s still above average, like three point sixty-nine last semester. … S-sixty nine. I know it. I KNOW I SHOULDN’T DO IT. … Ahem. God help me. He received a scholarship too? So he’s not that braindead after all. Hold on—part of his scholarship last year was due to… huh, sports achievement? But he’s not a student athlete, not even joining a club! And for this semester it’s purely out of academic background from the Architecture Society.

Okay, if anything he sounds awesome. No, wait—he _is_ awesome. There’s no need to be so suspicious or feeling unsure of him like this! Time to shut down this machine, then…

_Ares Hezul Nordion 50 W 0 L 10 D_

… Huh? W-what is this—something like a boxing match score board! Fifty times undefeated?!

_List of competitors per spring 2018. Nordion, Ares. Disqualified._

… Disqualified? Competitors? In what?

My phone vibrates beside me, prompting me to jump out of my seat. Suddenly I feel so utterly guilty. Even if he engaged in a… I don’t know, sports match, shit could happen, right? Perhaps I shouldn’t…

_Sis, I’m going home!_

Oh, Coirpre? Ah. I thought it was… Ares.

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _I got the questionnaire._

I almost gloriously bumped my toes against the sofa. I-is this just my luck, or his lion radar? Perhaps I’m just feeling guilty because of my little Google adventure. But… oh, I accidentally tapped his profile…

**_anblacknight_ ** _Delivery._

Hmmm?

It’s a photo of him semi-standing on his bike—whoever took it did a good job because it was obviously candid. In the photo he is glancing somewhere else, wearing sunglasses while straddling on his bike to balance it as his leather-gloved left hand holds the handlebar. The helmet rests on his right thigh.

W-wew, if I didn’t know it was an accidental shoot I would have mistaken him for a… m-model.

 ** _heyimnotaplant @anblacknight_** _HEY WHY ARE YOU SO COOL IN THERE, WHAT THE FUCK_

**_gaebolg @anblacknight_ ** _… You’re not Ares. Tell me you’re not Ares. Shit, why are you handsome?!_

**_lightprincess @anblacknight_ ** _Ares, want to model for Tirnanog Art Night? :3_

**_anblacknight @lightprincess_ ** _NO_

**_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _Delivering what? Aunt Grahnye’s?_

**_anblacknight @dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Not this time. A little human._

**_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _……. Please speak like a human…_

A-agree, Diarmuid. Sigh.

I—uhhh, my pride crumbles because I give it a Like. N-no big deal. Silent apology for Googling him!

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Oh._

Shit, who permitted you to notice that I just liked your selfie again? Aaaa—

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I almost did not recognize you!_

I feel like I’m a secret agent in a coveted mission. I have to tame my praises. I’m not a fan of Ares!!

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
But in the end you did. You liked that?_

Hnnnn!! You—how do I stop him from getting the last word? Bludgeon him with a cactus?

Alright, lion demon. What makes you think that I even think I may like it? You are probably looking cool there standing on your bike as if you’re on a modeling photoshoot or a promotional action movie poster. You have your black leather jacket and gloves on as usual—and oooh yeah, probably you’re looking badass and everything but why must I like it?! I mean—it’s not like your hair shines under the sun or those jeans you wear accentuate your shape or anything. It’s not like your comfortable white shirt with ripped accents helps shaping your broad shoulders as the sleeves make your muscle lines visible. What, you have white shirt and you want to prove a point to me because apparently you can wear other colors than black without dying, like you’re evolving from a Magikarp into a Gyarados, so much that you have the _gall_ to look _even more_ alluringly handsome like that? Asshole!

… A-alluringly… handsome, huh? There has to be a mistake.

I make a mental note to stop looking at Ares’ selfies—they ARE cursed. But hold on, it’s only ONE selfie! I can’t believe it, one selfie and my knees feel like they don’t want to support my body anymore? How come? I’ve heard of this phrase—knees, weak like spaghetti or something like that. But I haven’t had spaghetti again after the homemade one I shared with Ares!!

Again, who is a fan of Ares anyway? And who took time to look at Ares’ selfies again? So much spare time. But then again, I’m not a coward! I’ll do it—I’ll scroll on Ares’ updates to see MORE selfies! Muuuhaha, who does he think he is? Just because he’s handsome, doesn’t mean…

… Handsome? Really? Him? Meh! Why would I, someone with a _fine_ taste, mind you, as displayed through my clothing preferences and cooking skill, be attracted to a dork alleged lion demon like him? Like, alright, perhaps he’s got a posture and body to flaunt if he wishes. Perhaps he’s got fiery eyes which can be so gentle when he’s happy. Perhaps he’s got nice voice that—

L-let’s just skip that part. I’m glad he’s never talked to me on the phone yet.

… Yet? W-why am I so apprehensive again?

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _OH SO YOU THINK JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE HANDSOME AS FUCK YOU CAN FLEX LIKE THAT_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _I meant the light-colored shirt but_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… SHHHHIRT???_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
ARESSS NOOOOOOO—_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OKAY BUTT OMFH_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
SORRY TYPO_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
BUT ARES, I_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yes? :)_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Aaaah shut up your face omg I’m so embarrassed!! You smiled, I—I’m no longer chaste u__u_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
... Chaste?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
UMMMM S-SORRY FOR THE CHEMICAL REACTION_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
*COMICAL omg comical s-sorry I don’t know why but suddenly I feel so shy and and and_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
And I humbly thank you :)_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _COME HERE SO I CAN YANK YOUR MULLET_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _On the way indeed!_

On… the way?

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You’re… heading to my—apartment? :O_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Yes._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I didn’t order anything from your mother._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I know._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… The delivery? My questionnaire? :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Your brother, but I got that with me as well._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OMG YOU KIDNAPPED COIRPRE IN RETALIATION?? Take me instead, kidnap me!! :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Lene._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Also you looked so badass I could die but still yes kidnap me_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Lene, I’m sending Coirpre home after practice._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Oh? :O_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH ARESSSS_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
You’re screaming? Why? I don’t kidnap ladies._

I am _really,_ really thankful he is not human.

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
B-because... u__u Hnnnn so you’re giving Coirpre a ride you mean! Aaaaa—_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Confession under torture is invalid, don’t worry._

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Who took that photo? :O D-don’t tell me… Coirpre??_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Yes. Left my phone with him because I needed to lift my bike. Some dipshit parallel-parked like a dipshit that Mystletainn’s back tire got trapped between lane bars._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Mistletoe?_

**_anblacknigh_ ** _t  
Mystletainn, my bike, rabbit._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… You took out your bike like. LIKE LIFTING IT WITH YOUR BARE HANDS??_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Only to get the back tire out of the bars. Then I dragged it out._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Ares, I hate to point out but… honest question…_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yeah?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
... What did you feed your biceps?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Food?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I was just teasing you because your bike is—HEAVY? :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Not really. A racing bike tends to be heavier because of the chassis and powerful tank. This one’s antique._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I see…_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
My muscles aren’t._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… I… see? ^^;;;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I mean don’t worry about it, rabbit :) It’s only a couple of seconds of heavy lifting, anyway._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
And Coirpre took your photo just like that? :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I thought he was going to text you. Did he?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Yes, but… my, this is embarrassing! I assure you, we taught him manners…_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Actually, he said something._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
He… asked for permission?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Haha, no!_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
“Haha”? … You’re not human after all ^^;_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Because he said people need to see when I look cool since I’m not an angry monster._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ah… :O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I’m not even angry?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I know, Ares~ it’s just your face anyway, you’re actually so kind ^^_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
_ _Did I look cool then?_

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _HNNNN?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
And Coirpre is a good kid inside and out. Do not worry._

… Why, suddenly I feel knocked out in the feels… hnnn, h-how nice and relieving to hear that…

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _O-on behalf of him still, my utmost apologies, Sir Lion u_u_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Sirloin?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Sir Loin—LION! u___u_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
It’s alright, rabbit._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
On behalf of all the rabbits in this part of the city too, I’m sorry u_____u_

I’m seriously considering to smother myself dead with a sofa cushion nearby when the bell rings. That really, really startles me so much that I drop my phone on the floor! God, great that Rose isn’t damaged! Canceling my RSVP to death by suffocation on the last minute, I pick myself up, lazily approaching the door. How many minutes have passed since Ares’… uhhh, good-looking Instagram photo? Who cares!

“Who is it?”

“Sis, it’s Coirpre!”

Coirpre. That means Ares is here? But—can’t be. Ares probably won’t even get to the door like that. He doesn’t… seem to like being around me as much as I—

… Haha, ridiculous. Really? I like that he’s around, but do I want to be _with_ him?

“Hullooo, Coirpre~! Now let’s talk about your mischief today,” I’m practically half-yelling now because I intend to make things _clear_ as I swing the door open. “Listen. Just because you love your Coach N so much or that you think he’s that nice, doesn’t mean there’s no boundary to keep. I get it, I get it that even if you also think he’s _deadly_ handsome or finer than fine dining, it still does not excuse—“

… I think my vocal chords j-just… broke.

Coirpre is standing at the door—looking so astonished before his childish grin slowly emerges. But that’s not the problem because I can always grill him at any given time—it’s…

IT’S ARES!! HE REALLY STANDS BFORE ME AND MY EYES ARE STRAIGHT FACING HIS CHIN!!

… AAAAAAAA—

—Ahem.

OKAY BUT IT’S INDEED ARES AND HE’S GIVING COIRPRE A PIGGYBACK RIDE!

… I’m going to hide in the freezer so I can conveniently die of hypothermia. Or suffocation. Or both.

“Uh—“

“Hi, Lene,” he’s still there, standing so audaciously handsome with a solemn face as if he did not hear anything. But if his face can cover his ass—errr—face, not literal ass, damn it—his eyes do fail because I _know_ that despite everything and anything, he’s used to be honest with me. Those fierce eyes do twinkle. Like he’s so entertained that he can just smile and laugh at a stray cat right away!

“… H-Hi. Make yourself at home, I—I don’t care. There are some cookies on the coffee table before the sofa I baked like two nights ago and they’re not so sweet and—“ What’s this awkwardness?

“And where are you going again?”

“L-locking myself in the fridge to death, if you don’t mind—“ Why do I feel s-so… shy…

“And if I do?” he smiles this time, without any trace of that leonine hot mess he typically makes when he feels mischievous. H-hot mess? He’s not a pancake, he’s an alleged lion demon, eeegh!

“Then I’ll… stay?” I respond, totally like a smart, smart person that I am. NOT!

“That helps. Thank you,” he nods, still smiling. “Well, here’s your brother. And the questionnaire...”

“What happened?!” I open the door wider so Ares can come in more conveniently. He pauses at the threshold, like he’s wrestling with doubt whether or not he should come. Coirpre is still dangling on his back, however, and it seems he’s wrestling an internal dilemma until…

“… Can I really… come in?”

“But of course! No, really, come in,” I gesture to the door, opening it wider to him. He appears awkward before nodding. Huh? Why is he so hesitant? Is it because of… me?

Ares seats Coirpre on the sofa, ever so carefully. “He’s so stiff,” he explains, beginning to stretch Coirpre’s legs while slipping a cushion under the back of his knee. “Since I’m already here, it feels like leaving a job half-done if I get back right away. I’ll see what I can do.”

“… Do you think of us—Coirpre—as a job?” I pull him beside me. “I don’t need your pity, you know? I’ll call a doctor if you just… y-you just… told me he needed help,” I’m feeling overwhelmed somehow. I was thinking of Coirpre right before he showed up. My mind flies to the stash of banknotes Professor Forseti just gave me, and now the very man I thought highly of is going to give me yet another Forseti treatment? Perhaps I’m too prideful. But just this once, let me feel like I’m human—a fully dignified being…

He pauses. And here I am, my hand fisting against his sleeve. I’m just—sad and worried. Coirpre has been looking… odd lately, and now he comes home on another man’s back looking so miserable like a wooden figurine. And Ares dared to use that word—a job?!

… But at the same time, he’s also Coirpre’s coach…

“… I’m—sorry. I mean…” I whisper, frustrated. How do I convey these things to him—about us, about Coirpre, about everything I’ve done so far to protect him from the world? To be so frustrated that I have to leave the house in odd hours to scavenge for money, having to feel so thrown between not wanting to chaperone a growing Coirpre while not being completely neglectful at the same time. Ares’ silence, taking me lashing at him just like that, somehow only makes everything feels… worse. I feel so powerless. Coirpre was out, having a problem I didn’t know about, and I just felt relaxed after coaching Diarmuid at Tirnanog. I feel so… guilty. And it’s frustrating because it seems the more I tried to be a good sister, the shittier the outcome is…

“Come here,” Ares says, with a firm yet calm voice just like that. I can only nod as he pulls me aside, and before I know it, he pats my head gently… “You’re not his mother—an older sister and a college student.”

“I guess it’s—time—to… to admit my… defeat?” my voice only gets softer because—w-what if I sob…

“No,” he gently pats my hand, which is still fisting deeply against his sleeve. “My point is this is a hard work and exactly because Coirpre is not a job that you don’t need to blame yourself like that. The world out there can be an unforgiving place for little boys and exactly because you’ve done so much that Coirpre tried his best not to make you worried. Things happen and it doesn’t mean you fail, Lene.”

… H-huh?

“I happened to be around so I brought him home,” he gently ushers me back to the sofa, seating me beside Coirpre while he sits cross-legged on the floor. “And that’s what I meant by unfinished—now that I’ve seen him like this, it will be only fair to give you a helping hand, rabbit.”

… Oh…

“… I’m sorry, Sis,” Coirpre winces on the sofa. “It seems I keep making you sad…”

“N-no. Don’t say that,” I reach out to him. “If you phrase it like that t-then I—“

“It’s alright,” Ares stretches his hand, patting my back respectfully. “You’re worried because he came home like that. It’s normal. Now let’s patch him up. Got some essential oil and cotton wad?”

Of course I do. Flying to my room to get what he asked for, Ares is eying the pantry by the time I return to the sofa. He’s holding a small glass, like the kind of serving glass for ice cream with a lighter I keep on the fridge in case of a blackout. Still unsure of everything, I set a bottle of olive oil and a pack of facial cotton I typically use to clean my makeup while Ares is washing his hands at the washbasin.

“I was drilling the kids in sprint-running because there will be instances where they need to be fast when defending their penalty line,” Ares starts explaining, taking off Coirpre’s shoes and socks. “Then I had them dribbling zigzag to improve their skill. I want them to be able to master the sidelines.” He applies the oil on his hands. Rubbing them together, he starts massaging Coirpre. My little brother flinches.

“It hurts, Coach N,” he whimpers, reflexively clutching on Ares when the lion runs his hands over my little brother’s legs for the second time.

“Good. You regain your senses,” Ares keeps running his hands over Coirpre’s legs. His words are firm, yet his tone is comforting. I understand now—that stability and authority Coirpre spoke of some days prior. Something about Ares which makes people feel… safe. Just… just like how he protected me…

“Sounds like a normal drill,” I murmur, trying to contain my emotion. ”What happened to Coirpre?”

“He ran well and dribbled nicely. Then we practiced kicking—striking and receiving. Each kid had a one-on-one season with me first before I got to pair them with the group mates in rotation. He collapsed.”

“… Collapsed? I—no, Coirpre has no—condition…” I need to sit down. What is… happening?

“I didn’t even feel anything,” Coirpre winces. “But suddenly I couldn’t move.”

“Raise your legs,” Ares commands, which my brother obeys in a heartbeat. “Good. Bend them.”

“Hnnngh,” Coirpre grunts.

“We will unknot where it stiffs,” Ares announces again. “It’s like lubricating your stiff joints. Hold on.”

“Aaaarrgghh—!” Coirpre jolts when Ares adds more oil, putting more pressure as he runs his hands in a patterned movement over my little brother’s legs. He makes a patting motion before shifting into a rubbing one, ticking some sides here and there around the calves. His index finger presses around Coirpre’s ankle—then his soles, back to the thigh, back to the back of the calves… Coirpre is grunting and panting as Ares keeps messaging him, but as minutes pass and Ares keeps moving, slow but sure he’s adjusting until he looks relaxed without showing any muscle pain.

Ares exhales, wiping his forehead. He is as relieved as me… “Now the knees.”

“N-not done yet, Coach?” Coirpre bites into his own shirt.

“I told you to receive the ball with your thigh, not your knees,” he points out. “Now they’re bruised.” Ares lights a wad of cotton before killing the fire by sticking it into the glass. And just like that, he cups the glass over Coirpre’s kneecaps.

He jolts again. And Ares strokes his hair. “Easy there, Coirpre. Hold still.”

“H-how long until…” he groans.

“Not long. Keep holding on, I’m proud of you.”

“What’s that for?” I can’t resist to keep silent.

“Improving blood flow, so the muscles can breathe,” he simply smiles at me.

“Is he going to be… alright?” I bite my lips. How did Ares know these things? He’s so sure of what he’s doing, and I do appreciate him going this far to help Coirpre. But… why does he know these things?

“He is.”

That subtle confidence again. The reliable Ares I can trust. … Someone I’ve never had in my entire life.

Ares looks on his watch like a soldier on a vigil, taking the cup off when he decides it’s time to, he redoes the process for Coirpre’s another kneecap. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling so much better,” Coirpre mumbles. “You’re so cool.”

“What did you do?” well, a lion is still a lion and he is now _interrogating_ Coirpre.

“Perhaps I’ve been walking too much and running too much,” Coirpre whispers sheepishly. “My sister told you that I’m never the most athletic kid growing up. Unlike you.”

“You think so?”

Coirpre goes silent. And Ares shakes his head.

“I was a timid kid who hid behind my mother’s dress all the time.”

“Impossible,” Coirpre mutters.

“Possible. My point is, build your power. If you go strong all at once, you will burn out like fireworks. Beautiful, but lives shortly,” Ares pats Coirpre’s head again. “What did you feel when you first ran?”

“My chest was about to explode.”

“And what did you feel after doing that consistently for half an hour?”

“… Light feet?” Coirpre chirps again.

“Exactly, junior rabbit,” he nods. “Get some rest, but don’t stop moving or otherwise your joints will be dormant again. Don’t push yourself, though,” mustering his strict tone, he adds, “and I’ll know if you do.”

“Hnnn,” Coirpre  sighs, covering his face with a sofa cushion. “I just want to be strong…”

“Strong?”

He clenches his fist. “So nobody looks down on me anymore. So I can protect my sister…”

“Coirpre…” I touch him, ruffling his mane softly. Has he been stressing about it so much?

Ares sighs. “Look at me, junior rabbit.”

Coirpre puts down the cushion. “You’re going to scold me again, aren’t you,” he whispers.

“If you want to protect another person, be sure of yourself,” Ares pats Coirpre’s shoulders. “Once you decide to, you can’t do things prematurely. And it starts from within!” he exhales. “Protecting your sister doesn’t mean acting tough to hide. You want to be a man? A man owns himself up.”

“… I guess I keep failing.”

“Yes, you do,” Ares nails Coirpre with his eyes again. “Because you keep saying that.”

“… Hnnng, Coach N.”

“If you keep comparing yourself with Ced, Coirpre, really, you’re wasting your time. You’re not Ced. And even Ced can’t be you. Only a Coirpre can be a Coirpre,” he tones down his voice. “If you want to be a big man in the making, then start to have a mindset of one. There’s power,” he opens the jar on the table, crushing a cookie inside his palm. Taking a ply of tissue to hold the crumbs, he takes another cookie, and this time he darts his fist against it. The cookie isn’t breaking, but seconds after, it splits, parting into two in an evenly manner as if it’s being destroyed _from within._ “… Then there’s strength.”

“Oh—wow,” Coirpre watches the cookie Ares just—punched in style, I guess—beaming.

“Real strength doesn’t destroy, Coirpre,” Ares smirks, sharing the parted cookie as he pops another half into his mouth. “Instead, it preserves and nurtures. And _that_ what makes it _powerful_.”

“How did you do that?” Coirpre whispers, contemplating half of the cookie in his hand.

“With tenderness,” he chuckles. “But don’t get me wrong—it takes _a lot_ of sweat and tears to temper a soul,” stealing a glance at me, he adds. “So be good to your sister because she has a lot to teach you.”

I yank his mullet.

“… The way she keeps teaching me.”

… Huh?

“That’s a lie, my sister can’t punch like that,” Coirpre murmurs.

“I hate to copy him, but he’s right,” I stick my tongue at Ares. “The only alleged human here is you!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ares curves his lips, reaching for his backpack. “Here’s your questionnaire, rabbit.”

“Thank you! Huh, nicely wrapped with a plastic,” I blurt it out.

“Stole one of my mom’s,” he scratches his head. “Don’t want the little Hello Kitty motifs get dirty.”

“Really?” I beam at him. “Ooooh, Ares!”

“Yeah? Why, Lene, it’s just—oomph,” he gasps because out of reflex I wrap my arms around his neck. Why, he’s so kind like this. He’s so nice to the people around him despite the rawness he displays. He snaps Coirpre out of despair without… glorifying strength. I mean—men tend to stir it onto that direction, they realize it or not—the might makes it right attitude, you know? But Ares is just… different.

“Now you have your things back,” he smiles faintly, gesturing to my Hello Kitty folder and a recuperating Coirpre. “I guess I…”

“You’re leaving, Coach N?” Coirpre squeaks from the sofa. “Really, you carried me from the basement parking lot until here, and you’re not going to even wait until you get a drink?”

“I can have a drink anywhere,” he murmurs.

“But I’ll be sad,” Coirpre chirps again, his eyes half-closed. “… Can’t he stay with us, Sis?”

“… Do you need to go?” I whisper, glancing outside. The sky is turning colors now. Beautiful dark orange shades peek into the windows, signaling that the sun is going to finish its shift for the day. Refractions of light fall over Ares, decorating his golden mane with a rainbow arc. He is still sitting on the floor, crouching beside Coirpre, gently running his balled fist over my little brother’s exhausted legs. He alters with making movements as if he’s pinching and weaving Coirpre’s thighs, and my little brother’s weary expression slowly turns… peaceful. “I need to thank you for… everything you’ve done for us.”

“I didn’t help you so I could help myself,” Ares replies in a gruff manner.

“… And what if exactly because I know?” I gently tap his shoulder. “Have dinner with us?”

“Can I have curry?” Coirpre mumbles. “Suddenly I feel so hungry…”

“We can have that,” I whisper to him softly, stroking his face. “You’re exhausted. Rest, Coirpre.”

“And if I fall asleep?” he hums. “Will you still be here even if I fall asleep, Coach N?”

“Awh, now you’re a baby,” chuckling, I tease Coirpre. “Curry it is then. But eat well! I don’t like cooking only to have the food ignored,” I get up from the sofa. “… Both of you?” this time I smile at Ares.

“… Will that make you… happy?” he whispers awkwardly.

“Of course~! Or… do you have unattended business?” now I’m a bit worried. Am I being forceful?

He looks at me. I catch his eyes landing on me, right when I’m pondering whether I’ve been detaining him with us like this. I must have looked pretty comical, with my expression and everything—because the corner of his mouth twitches a little bit.

“The sun is setting, Sis,” Coirpre says.

“Hnnn? Ah, right! I’ll close the windows but we’ll keep the curtains open a little bit longer,” I hop around to reach the windows. “The sun is beautiful, isn’t it~? Sometimes all you need to do is looking at nature like this and let the scenery wipes your sadness away! And nothing beats a natural light source!” sighing, I begin to move my hands to close the windows. The sun creates bashful orange rays, and this really is that beautiful moment when the sun looks so red before it gets to set.

“Perhaps…”

I stop, sensing footsteps behind me. Ares steers his paces to approach me, his footsteps being quiet and long as always. Never mind that he’s basically only wearing socks now that he’s inside, but his expression is… peaceful. Like he’s so contended and everything. He moves closer, drawing the window panel I haven’t clasped back. “Thank you,” I nod at him as he helps me closing the other window.

“… It’s still warm,” he exhales. “Somehow…”

“Ah…” He’s standing beside me, his tall posture blocks the peeking sun rays. “Sunlight falls on you.”

“Does it?” he lightly chuckles, slowly bringing his right hand to point at my hair. “Like prior, that morning selfie, there’s a halo.”

“Really?” I turn around out of reflex. “I could have sworn it fell on you just now.”

“Yeah. On top of your head like—“ he murmurs somehow. “… An angel. Are you sure you’re human?”

“Hnnn? Again? Told you the only alleged human here is you,” I swiftly jam my nails against his ribcage. If this keeps happening, he’ll be out cold on the floor laughing with messy tears because I’ll tickle him!

… He catches my hand?

“Only me?”

H-huh? Why—why do I feel s-so… so… confusingly shy when he looks at me like that? But at the same time, I… like that he has such appreciative tender eyes on me like that?! … Huh?

“Of course, only you,” I huff.

“I guess,” he releases me. “If something is too good to be true, then it probably is.”

“… Eh?”

“Never mind,” he only grins. “Hmmm. Perhaps it’s just my imagination.”

“If there was indeed a halo,” I wink at him, making a gesture as if removing something invisible on top of my head. “Then here, I lend you~! Now you too are an angel,” standing on my tiptoe I pat his head as if I just put a hat on him. “… Hold on. Can a lion be an angel? But imagine, a big cat with wings. Cute~!”

“… I guess it can’t be helped,” his gentle chuckles blossom then. “Thank you, rabbit.”

“I’m not sure what for, but okay, I guess,” I shrug. “Need to brush up my fluency in Lion.”

With chuckles exchanged and jokes thrown, I retire to the kitchen. Eying Ares from under my lashes, who is back at the sofa facing the sunset like he’s _watching_ it, somehow it’s hard not to notice how relaxed Coirpre is with him around. I don’t know what they’re talking to each other because Coirpre beams at him, and Ares keeps his sincere smile even though he’s still being Ares as usual.

I can hear Coirpre boisterous cackles from the sofa by the time my curry blocks start melting. Perfect to be mixed with the potatoes, carrots, and pieces of boneless chicken meat I’ve stir-fried as I waited on the blocks to dissolve in the water. Sudden realization creeps into me as I put everything into the pot…

… That I don’t mind.

I realize I don’t mind Coirpre bonding with Ares like that. I realize how peaceful everything is when I hear Coirpre’s seamless laughter ringing as Ares chuckles back. He’s so sincere, so sincere and he’s always been like that. He did not think of anything else to actually help Coirpre, while still being so courteously mindful of me that he only came inside when I invited him in.

It’s said that vampires can’t enter your house without invitation. But I invited him in…

… I guess I’m exposing myself here, because there’s indeed this biting feeling I can’t comprehend, watching him treating Coirpre like that. … Like I’m melting—

“Hnnn. Where are you going, Coach N?” Coirpre slurs from the table, catching my attention at an instant. Ares can’t be leaving right when the food is almost done, right?

“To help your sister!” he answers as he peeks into the kitchen. “Tell me what I should do.”

“You can’t cook,” I tease him.

“Definitely,” he smirks. “But I can set the table for you and everything else.”

“You’re an odd ball, Coach N,” Coirpre chirps from the sofa. “Those power-players in the team already laughed at me when I said I did the dishes. They said boys don’t do that. Boys only eat.”

“Oh, they’re right,” Ares replies nonchalantly. “Boys do that and _men_ help. And you are?”

“W-whoa, Coach N.”

“Are you well enough to sit at the table or do you need to lie down a little bit more?” he smirks, waving his hand humorously like he’s dismissing Coirpre before my little brother gets to say anything else. “Try sitting,” he nudges Coirpre softly, and I can see light is back on Coirpre’s face when he slowly gets up, dragging his body off the sofa. “Hurt?”

“M-much better,” Coirpre stutters. “I’ll stand up.”

“Ssh, junior rabbit. Slowly,” Ares holds his waist. “I’ll count, you move step by step, okay?”

“Alright,” Coirpre grins. “Don’t wanna make you work twice, Coach N.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds. “One. Hoist yourself. Two. Straighten your legs…” he commands, and Coirpre follows with determination. Slipping his small hand into Ares’ palm, he smiles proudly, leading the lion to our dinner table with him.

“I can do it,” he beams at Ares. “I’ll be able to play again.”

“You will,” Ares pats his head, pulling a chair and lifts him so he can sit. And with that I turn off the stove, carrying the pot containing nice chicken curry in it. By then Ares already takes out plates from the rack near the washbasin. They’re already dry, and he turns back on me. “I didn’t open any drawer.”

“It’s alright,” I unplug the rice cooker so I can bring it to the table. Setting the cutleries, I begin to fill in Coirpre’s plate and he looks so happy when I pour the curry over his rice. “Here you go,” I must have sounded a bit… croaked, because I really miss this scene. I miss a Coirpre who enthusiastically waits for every food I make, the Coirpre who eats a lot after school and the Coirpre who looks at every plate I place before him like it’s a sophisticated art.

… Furthermore, now that Ares is here, with us… somehow…

“This feels like a family!” Coirpre exclaims, making me drop the ladle into the pot out of reflex. Hnnn, I get it, I get that Coirpre is ecstatic that the house is lively this evening, but p-perhaps he shouldn’t phrase it like that! What if it makes Ares feel awkward? W-what if it… deters him from visiting us again?!

“… It does,” Ares responds from the other side of the table. “Nicely spicy.”

“It is! I’m feeling energized! Are you, Coach N~?” Coirpre nudges Ares from the corner, making a carrot piece fly directly at his nose. “Oops. Sorry about that! Do you have any sibling?”

“I don’t,” Ares chuckles, returning the carrot onto Coirpre’s plate. “Eat that too.”

“Y-you don’t have to glare.”

“If it means you’re going to eat the vegetables, I shall,” Ares nods firmly. “And no—but I have cousins.”

“Hnnngh. Alright,” Coirpre remarks sullenly. “Really? You don’t have a sibling—at all? Must be lonely!”

“Coirpre!” I lightly pinch his nose now. “What did I say about boundary?”

“You remember that, yet you didn’t remember anything about calling Coach N handsome and all that,” my dastard little brother sulks. “Do you have a girlfriend, Coach N?”

“Coirpre—!” gods, it takes everything out of me not to ruffle his hair like I’m trying to arrange hay blocks at a stable! W-why, you, I love him so much, but not this evening, and why Ares, out of all people?!

But the alleged demon just laughs heartily. “Do you?”

“Not yet,” Coirpre pouts. “And you?”

“Coirpre, I swear to God—“

“But Sis! This is a heart-to-heart conversation between men,” Coirpre replies, undeterred.

“Men?—You’re twelve, eat your damn food!”

“… Why, junior rabbit?” hnnn, such blondicity! Why the hell did Ares smirk? Don’t indulge Coirpre! “I’m not the most desirable bachelor at the dating market, so if you want advice, go find someone else.”

“Like who?”

“Your sister?” he chuckles again, scraping the food clean off his plate.

“But she’s also single,” Coirpre pouts again. “Are you, Coach N?”

“Enough. Eat,” I flash my scary older sister smile at him. “Stop pestering Ares like that, let him eat too!”

“No fun,” Coirpre shoves a spoonful of the curry rice into his mouth. Everything proceeds as usual in awkward silence because Coirpre stops chirping during dinner. He seems to start catching that he’s making me feel so awkward, and eventually finishes his food in peace.

Shaking my head begrudgingly I start collecting the plates. Why, I low-key wish I was dead when I hover closer to where Ares sits so I can take his plate! But he simply smiles, holding his plate to me. “… May I have seconds?” he inquires, like he’s containing his laughter in his throat upon noticing my face.

“S-sure,” I set the dirty plates aside to give him a second helping.

“Thank you. I’ll wash them when I’m done,” he nods. “… Oh, Mama. This is so good…”

H-huh? I thought I caught him saying something like he’s—moaning? Probably just my imagination. I stroll back to the kitchen, taking out a carton of orange juice out of the fridge. Making a double trip to the kitchen, this time I get the glass for us three, along with a pitcher containing plain water I cool down. “Stay hydrated, alright?” I set everything on the table. Wew, Ares is hungry, huh? He already finishes the second serving! “Still want more?” chuckling, I tease him.

“… If you’d be so generous like that,” he responds sheepishly. “And this time just the curry.”

“No probleeem~! After all, food needs to be eaten,” giggling, I serve him another plate. “This much?”

“Thanks,” he mutters, tapping Coirpre on the shoulder. “Want seconds as well?”

“Hnnn. I don’t know why but seeing you like that makes me hungry as well. So… yes?” Coirpre beams at me, flashing those puppy eyes. “Me too?”

I really want to tell Ares how much I thank him for dining with us like this. I mean… it’s been weeks since Coirpre looked so disturbed that he didn’t eat well. There were times when he seemed to evade the lunches I packed for him, and now he wants seconds? H-Hnnn. M-maybe I’m that weak. I want to cry—

Now that everything is done, time for cleaning up. Ares pulls the chair for Coirpre again, instructing him to stand slowly. And both he and I watch from a close distance like supervising a toddler who just learns to walk when Coirpre, now with more confidence than ever, proceeds to walk on his own compared to before dinner where he held Ares’ hand like a timid kid who just started school. He isn’t protesting when Ares tells him he doesn’t need to practice if tomorrow his legs still feel that way. He also instructs Coirpre to sleep with proper posture, like lying down instead of curling up and even use another pillow to be placed under the back of his knees.

“Are you going to… check on him again?” suddenly I feel so, so shy to even ask this. T-that means Ares probably will be our dinner guest for a few days until Coirpre gets better. Besides, if we need to take him to see a doctor, he’s too big for me to carry like that. And now that he can’t walk and me not having a car, what should I take him with?

At the same time I feel bad. Ares doesn’t have to babysit Coirpre. Suddenly I’m reminded of the past… errr, guys who tried to warm up to me. When I thought things were going great, they withdrew thinking they’d also need to babysit Coirpre, like someone who suddenly realized they were about to date a single mom with a kid and decided they couldn’t.

And there’s this… looming… fear creeping over me. It will be great if Ares agrees, but I feel like I’m burdening him if he does. If disagrees, well… can’t blame him. But I can’t say it won’t make me feel sad because Ares is… different. And s-somehow I want—

“Ah. I just thought so,” I can hear Ares’ answer from the kitchen since he’s washing the plates for us.

“Ummm…” I bite my lips. “You see—maybe… maybe you shouldn’t.”

He stops rinsing. I can hear him wiping the plates clean before rearranging them in the rack. Wiping his damp hands against his jeans, he gets out of the kitchen, finding me sitting at the dinner table. He pulls a chair, facing me. And suddenly I feel so—nervous. “Did I cross a line, rabbit?”

“No! You’re so nice doing these things for Coirpre, and—!” I quickly clamp my hand over my mouth, feeling so, so embarrassed that—yes, screaming again, sigh. I guess his nickname for me is fitting…

“Then what’s the problem?” he chuckles lightly.

“Because you know you shouldn’t…” I avert my gaze from his. “Or—I know the solution. You drive around here, Ares~! Then you probably know a thing or two about… routes, you know? Do you have any alternative in case I need to send Coirpre to school in a taxi?” I quickly get a hold of myself then. “Like, where should I hail one? I’m not sure about the bus stop too because usually we commute by train! Do you have any idea for easier access, a-and if you don’t mind, mapping the route for me. You must be good at it considering you’re an urban planner,” I try to lighten everything up, nuzzling him.

“Even if I sketch the map for you, what are you going to take him with?”

… That question. S-sure. I can’t reply. I don’t know the answer… “I…” m-my, I feel like crying again…

“I’m asking not to spite you,” he responds in a gentle manner.

“I—know. I know, exactly w-why. Perhaps if you sketch I’ll think of—something?”

He folds his arms. And I wish I was dead. This is the moment, isn’t it? That he’s going to leave like the others? I’m waiting for the sudden phone call he must take, a relative he suddenly needs to attend to. Just like the guys before him. I feel like my hands are trembling, nervously-sweaty. I’ll send him off then. Usually I’m at the receiving end, so let me take control a little bit…

“You see, the elevator is nearby,” I try to laugh it off. “And Coirpre isn’t going to be like this forever. I’m probably not as athletic as you, but I can—“

“You can’t.”

He knows what I’m thinking. And he kills my argument even before it brews.

“Our landlord Hannibal thinks of Coirpre as his own son, so probably he can…”

… He can what? Lend me a wheelchair, ask me many questions why Coirpre has to ride in one?

Sounds of something crumbling prompts me to gasp. Ares gets out of the chair faster, and we find Coirpre lying down face-flat against the floor. He ought to hastily get up from the sofa, then. “... God,” I murmur, running to get him. But Ares already rivals my steps by then. He looks down, and without hesitation crouching again to nimbly pick up Coirpre off the floor. My dear little brother comfortably lies in his embrace and I tail him from behind as he steers back to sofa.

“I told you to move slowly, Coirpre.”

“I’m—sorry, Coach N. I—overheard your conversation with my sister, and…” he tugs on my dress when Ares lays him on the sofa. “Lene, I’m not—crippled.”

“Don’t say that, Coirpre.”

“But you know I’m not,” his eyes burn mine. “And I’m not disabled. That wheelchair will be much more appropriate in the hands of another. B-besides—am I still allowed to practice if I go to school like that?”

“… Coirpre…”

“Y-your eyes are—glassy,” he tones done his voice. “Am I making you sad again?”

“No, darling.” I want to scream. He wears such wry smile and no kid that age should look so dejected! If anything—damn me first to hell and beyond, why can’t I afford a car?! Why can’t I—

“Your sister only heard half of what I wanted to say, because I wasn’t done talking,” Ares leans in closer, patting Coirpre’s head in a brotherly manner like he did Diarmuid—only much gentler. “I’ll pick you up.”

“… What?!” I can only—stand. Stand with my jaw open.

“Right. I’ll send him to school. What time do you usually go to? It’s been a while since I attended  middle school, you know?” he quirks an eyebrow in a humorous manner. “Besides, I took him home today. I should remember the route. You said I scan my surroundings like a lion, rabbit?”

“T-that’s not the point!! I mean—!” I really cup my cheek now. Really? H-he just… he offers like that?

“This is temporary anyway. And I’m a senior, my mornings tend to be flexible,” he replies casually.

“But… Ares!” I know I’m close to _shrieking_ now, but I don’t care.

“Yeah?” he responds nonchalantly.

“Riding with you again?” Coirpre beams at Ares. “R-really? I’ll share my breakfast with you!!”

I can’t believe it. Turning away, I feel so, so overwhelmed. “L-let’s hope you’re well so it won’t be—necessary,” I murmur. “There’s no reason to trouble your coach any longer.”

“Do you… hate him being here with us?” Coirpre asks again.

“Gods,” my voice croaks then. “No, Coirpre. And no,” I repeat, facing Ares.

“Then I’m glad,” he responds, his head bowing a bit that I can’t see his expression that way.

“What needs to be done now,” I whisper, feeling so awkward at an instant. “Homework?”

“The science project! I have an article bookmarked on your laptop,” Coirpre looks so happy that he’s close to bounce again. “I originally wanted to do that dynamo thing with wires and a drill, but I’ve never used tools like that and I’m not sure if we have them here in the house. So… cardboard solar oven.”

“Wires and drill? Dangerous, junior rabbit. I support this cardboard oven.”

“I’ll get the laptop,” I turn the table so it conveniently faces Coirpre, since the laptop was on my lap before Ares showed up. I leave Coirpre with my laptop, feeling like I need some air. Why, the Ares who just conveniently offered to send Coirpre to school, the Ares who listened to him talking …. Walking to the windows to draw the curtains I haven’t, I hear him chirping again—this time at Ares.

“See, Coach N, here it says I need a cardboard box. Then a knife or scissors… alumunium foil… clear duct tape, plastic wrap… dark construction paper, newspapers, ruler, a thermometer…” he reads the screen.

“An adult to help with the cutting. I can do that,” Ares tilts his head to read the screen as well.

“Oh, you’ve helped me so much! I was going to ask Lene…”

“Let your sister rest a bit,” Ares responds firmly. “And we can use the freezer bag I stole from my mother to protect your sister’s precious Hello Kitty file folder.”

“Oooh gotcha. The rest should be in my bag! I went to the stationary like two days ago,” Coirpre makes a motion of getting up, but I quickly turn around.

“I’ll get them. And it’s alright, I’ll help you making them. With the power of three, it will be quicker!”

We set everything neatly and begin working. Ares helps cutting a flap in the lid of the box, making a three-side cut with some distance between the sides and the edges of the lid. I help him folding the flap so it stands up when the lid is closed. We cover the rest with alumunium to reflect the sun and seal the cardboard with the plastic, creating an airtight window. Layering the bottom of the box with the dark construction paper, Coirpre says according to the article he read, the newspaper rolls can be used to contain more heat so Ares layers a couple of those on the bottom of the box again and secures them with the tape. “Like this?” there are more chuckles and smiles around, and I feel warm too…

“And I’ll put a toast to test it tomorrow!” Coirpre beams at us. “But this leaves me only writing…”

“The article says you need an adult help,” I grin. “Technically you’re bed-bound, Coirpre, so it’s okay.”

“If you want me writing the report—now that’s a no,” Ares chimes in. “Sleepy yet?”

“… Probably, Coach N,” Coirpre yawns. “I feel so drained because of those activities…”

“Right. Bathroom first, or straight to the bed?”

“I just want to sleep,” my little brother yawns again. “The quicker I do, the more time you have to be alone with my sister, anyway.”

“Coirpre!” I dig my nails against his ribs, mercilessly tickling him while Ares tries not to laugh.

“Y-you’re going to smother me!” Coirpre yelps, panicking. “I’m just saying—ooouch, meanie! Adults in the movies tend to have that significant look signaling they have something to talk about without anyone else around, you know?” he whimpers.

“Right, right. Bed,” Ares picks up Coirpre again, holding him carefully as he steers around. “Which room?”

“Can’t you tell?” uuugh, this kid has that audacious smirk on his face! Hnnngh!

Ares pauses. And gods be damned, he _smirks._ “That one to my left is the forbidden door.”

“Do you have a lion radar or something?” I nudge him from behind.

“Do lions you know easily spot a strawberry wall strap hanging on the door like I do?”

“… Darn,” I mutter begrudgingly. He chuckles again, delivering Coirpre to his own room. I crouch with him beside my Coirpre when he lays my little brother on the bed. “Sleep well,” my voice is soft as I plant a soft kiss on Coirpre’s forehead. “Don’t think of anything. Everything will get better tomorrow.”

“Ride back safely, Coach N,” he mumbles with his eyes half-closed. “Hnnn. I love you.”

“Uh—Ares, I’m sorry, he’s probably just…” I get anxious when he pauses.

He tilts his face at me, and I swear—it’s like there’s… pond in his eyes. A peaceful one, silvery surface blessed by the moonlight. Those copper-gold colored eyes look so… tame and tender, and he gets up, closing Coirpre’s door without making a sound. “It’s alright. It’s just that…”

“Uh—yes?” I follow from behind, nervously watching him putting on his leather jacket.

He looks at his own palm, clenching his fist, and unclenching it again. “… I feel alive.”

“Eh?”

“… Thanks to you, rabbit.”

“What did I do again?”

“Nothing. Exactly why.”

“… I didn’t do anything and that makes you feel many things?” my lips form a letter O. Literally!

“Probably?” he simply smirks a little. “No. You did a lot. I’m driving home. Thank you for the dinner.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” I smile at him, handing the backpack he parked on our sofa. “Really, I’m so sorry if I appeared so—stunned by everything you did and offered, usually it’s just me, and…”

“Alone without anyone else?”

“My girls are my closest friends, is that what you mean?”

“No,” he clears his throat. “… An interested male person.”

“... Like a suitor?”

He nods.

I can’t help not to giggle. “God, you really aren’t human. I guess they saw Coirpre or my house or the fact that I dance and they decided they are no longer interested?” I shrug. Teasing him so I don’t wallow in sadness, I pinch his nose softly. “Why, Ares, maybe you should start talking like a human more~!”

“Then I’m not seeing anyone.”

“You—WHAT?”

“I thought you wanted me to speak Human?” he quirks an eyebrow, smirking.  

* * *

 

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Breakfast is ready >:3 anyway has anyone ever been to Yied Avenue~?_

I send the post to Instagram, watching the toasts, bacon stripes, grilled sausages and roasted peanuts with gravy I concluded for the day. Is it okay to feel proud of myself? Honestly, I’m proud of myself. Hehehe, this is simple, but I’m confident about the taste. Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication!

See, my phone vibrates. I know food posts usually attract early… ahem, hungry birds~!

**_schalphy_ ** _If I were you I’d lock my door tight because those look amazing! **@dancedancerebellion**_

**_larceiheyhey @dancedancerebellion_ ** _… Wow?? :O_

**_pheeew @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Can I haz_

**_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Spare leftovers Ma’am **@dancedancerebellion** t-that’s amazing I’m eating my shirt!_

**_gaebolg_ ** _Oooh myyy. For you alone? **@dancedancerebellion**_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Awh thx! **@schalphy @larceiheyhey @pheeew @dialdfordiarmuid**_

**_dancedancerebellion @gaebolg_ ** _No, I live with my little brother **@etluxintenebrislucet** here ^^ also I’m waiting for **@anblacknight** if anything. It’s nice to feed everyone well :) thank you, Altena~! _

**_gaebolg @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Waiting for Ares?? **@anblacknight** HEY WHAT THE FUCC?? _

**_larceiheyhey @anblacknight_ ** _is eating breakfast with you??? **@dancedancerebellion**_

**_pheeew_ ** _... Waiting for him to get there or to wake up? >:) **@anblacknight @dancedancerebellion**_

**_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _EXPLAIN THIS YOU LUCKY BASTARD **@anblacknight** cc **@dancedancerebellion**_

**_darkscion_ ** _Inviting a lion to a rabbit hole. Smart **@dancedancerebellion** peasant-level smart._

**_heyimnotaplant_ ** _HEHEHE RABBIT HOLE HUH **@darkscion @anblacknight** ARES YOU DIPSHIT _

**_darkscion_ ** _… Who is this insignificant being I barely know again **@heyimnotaplant**_

**_friegish_ ** _Hmmm, are those easy to make **@dancedancerebellion? @darkscion,** what if…_

**_thunderingwithpride @dancedancerebellion_ ** _I don’t know why, but I have tears on my face seeing these foods. ELECTRIFYING AND DIRE!! **@anblacknight** you must be JOLTING with pleasure!!_

**_anblacknight_ ** _Yes. **@thunderingwithpride**_

**_nunsfighttoo_ ** _Oooh, **@anblacknight** is neutered? Domestic kitty ^^ **@dancedancerebellion**_

Eeeh? People are suddenly mentioning Ares! T-they are… that surprised, huh? But I’m indeed waiting for Ares! And… hnnn, out of these surprised people, why did Ares only reply to Reinhardt?? A ‘yes’ too?

_Heading to Yied Avenue?_

Huh? Oh, from Ares…

_I got hired for a night club on Thursday!_

Is something so dire that he decides to communicate through text like that? I wonder. But he stops replying. The sounds of the bell ringing distracts me so I leave my phone for a while, and…

... I can’t believe it.

I mean, I really can’t believe it! Here we are, around seven in the morning and Ares is back at our door, greeting me with the typical faint smile he tends to have, with the corner of his mouth twitching pleasantly like that. Coirpre is eating breakfast when the bell rings, and he managed to get to the table and washed himself crawling with his legs stretched. It was painful to see him walking like a ghost in a horror movie, but seeing how determined he is, I decided to honor him. If he doesn’t want to appear weak in front of me, then I guess I can return the courtesy…

We nearly jumped when it was clear that Ares was the guest in the morning. He dresses in some military-style dark brown camouflage pants paired up with a leafy green t-shirt; no collars but three camouflage-style buttons decorate the collarbone area. And he’s getting straight to the point after sparing me a typical greeting.

“How’s the legs?”

“Manageable,” Coirpre replies in a dignified manner. “How’s your stomach, Coach N?”

“Manageable,” he returns the courtesy. “Then I guess you can ride with me.”

“Alright,” Coirpre nods. “And this means you can have breakfast with us!”

“Agreed,” Ares simply smiles a little. “May I?”

“Come on, sit with us~!” this feels funny—he’s taller and bigger than me, but here I am, ushering him to the table again like a kid. “You didn’t have anything back home?”

“I did. Eggs and milk. Usual. My days start early, remember?” he let me set a plate for him. Well… yes? I guess considering his size and schedule, that explains why he eats a lot. Or perhaps because his mother’s cooking is irresistible like that? Haha, somehow this feels cute. He’s such a cute cub!

“Milk?” that catches Coirpre’s attention easily!

“To break other guys’ bones, yours have to be strong,” Ares responds in that typical innocent, deadpan manner he does. “... But above all, feed the brain,” he quickly retracts when I yank his mullet. I don’t want Coirpre to be exposed to violence! Still, this is such a contrast—I’m trying to make Coirpre see all the beautiful colors in the world, and Ares is here as my counterpart teaching him what to do in case those colors personify and start to pick a fight. Sigh.

Unexpected to me though—he makes that reaction again—the similar reaction he had when my chicken curry was ready for the dinner yesterday. Like he’s _beaming_ at my food! He has that sweet childish look on him when I set the toasts on his plate, and looking so amazed when I roll a couple of grilled sausages and bacon stripes over them. “More?” I tease him again.

He murders one of the bacon stripes, looking so incredibly satisfied. It’s all in his eyes, and boy, somehow I really want to make him sit there and feed him everything I can cook all at once. T-this is so weird. He looks… contended and happy. It seems he senses that I’ve been watching, so he kind of withdraws, looking embarrassed. “… First thing first, Lene, I’m not a cat.”

“You’re a lion cub,” I really can’t resist laughing now. “So, technically you’re a cat.”

He has that sullen expression again and I really, really wish I could just… I don’t know, wrap my arm around him to keep teasing him. But at the same time I also want to tell him how cute he is, reacting like that! Hnnn. But if I did that, he probably wouldn’t keep eating. So save it for another day~! A teasing a day, keep the lion at the bay, muuuhaha!

Nevertheless, my morning feels practically merry with him eating with us like this. I bide him goodbye as we leave the apartment at the same time out of convenience, with Coirpre looking so happy when Ares lifts him to give my brother another piggyback ride because we’re heading to the elevator. Some people passing us by kind of stare at us. Some appear sympathetic, but in a way as if they’re pitying us because we have Coirpre in tow like this. When we get to the basement, Coirpre leans against me because Ares needs his hand to take his bike out of the parking line.

Ares strolls closer, straddling on Mystletainn. I hold Coirpre tightly by the waist so he can reach for Ares, and balancing the bike with his thighs Ares takes over Coirpre from me, seating him before the handlebar instead of behind as his passenger. “Be good at school, Coirpre,” I ruffle his hair, waving.

He nods. He looks so cheerful even though he can barely walk as if I just got him to ride a horse!  

“Where are you going?” Ares’ voice startles me.

“Walking to the station as usual?” I turn around.

“You can hop on behind me though,” he lifts his helmet a bit to speak to me conveniently.

“We’ll get fined, Ares,” chuckling, I fix Coirpre’s backpack. “Traffic violation!”

“If we got caught,” he has that leonine smirk again on his face. “And I don’t care regardless.”

“People probably will look at you funnily, three people on a bike and all that,” I argue.

“Still don’t care,” he shrugs. “I don’t feel like leaving you like this, rabbit.”

“It’s just a walk,” I smile at him. “I’ll be alright.”

“It’s just a ride,” he smiles back. “And I’ll be alright.”

“Stubborn, aren’t you,” I huff, hiding a little smile as I climb onto the bike. I probably shouldn’t be wearing a dress, but I really didn’t think I’d be riding with him as well! I want to straddle on the bike so he can have more room, but… um—

“Make yourself comfortable.”

“I’m not demure,” I yank his mullet, as I _demurely_ change my sitting position into a graceful saddling one. Hhhhnnnhhh!

“You’re fun-sized.”

“Just say I’m short, height bandit,” I huff again, tidying my dress.

“Well, there’s fun in fun-sized. Not a burden then,” he flashes his leonine smile at me. “Done?”

“Yeah,” I pinch his ribcage. “Onward, my steed.”

And there we are, off at the road. We arrive at Coirpre’s school, and he holds his breath when Ares stops the bike. I help him to descend, and sensing his anxiety, I offer to hold his hand instead of having Ares to carry him. He quickly accepts. And we walk ever so slowly because of the little steps he makes. Ares follows faithfully from behind like he’s closely paying attention in case Coirpre tires. His class is at the second floor, so Ares takes charge from there, carrying him again. Meanwhile other kids start arriving as well. They pour into the school ground, including Ced and Tinny who wave at us. I can hear some kids snickering a thing or two at Coirpre while some other look at me in awe.

“Little boys and their hormones,” Ares rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to talk to his homeroom teacher,” I nudge him softly. “We have two factions here. One with the hormones you say—calling me hot. The other one calls me pretty. I should make it clear to these kids that I’m older and I’m here as a guardian who needs to speak to a teacher!”

“Older. Are you sure?” Ares smirks, earning a pout from me. “Well, if anything it’s not like they’re w—“ he blurts out of reflex, but quickly clears his throat then. Hnnn? What did he want to say? Did he take everything back just so his mullet is spared?

Thankfully, Coirpre’s teacher seems to be understanding, especially when Ares fills her in saying Coirpre’s been unwell since yesterday considering he collapsed during the practice session he coached.

Now that everything is taken care of, we ride to Jugdral-U, with me not saying anything and Ares merely drives in silence. I thank him when we arrive at Jugdral-U’s southern parking lot, and it takes a lot not to ruffle his hair when he darts a _meaningful_ look at the still-closed milk tea stand. Yeah, it’s barely around nine or so, anyway…

“Thank you for today,” I murmur as he’s locking his mount.

“… I had fun,” he replies, unexpected.

“Fun?”

“Yeah,” he replies, inserting the key back into his pocket. “Your brother is fun to interact with. He may appear timid, but he’s got that determination like you have once he decides to learn something. Rabbit genetics?” the corner of his mouth twitches. “He’s a keen observer. Not athletic perhaps, but aware.”

… He sincerely likes socializing with Coirpre?

“… Thank—“

“Ssh,” he murmurs, gently placing his index finger on my lips.

“Mmhmm?”

“You shouldn’t feel like you owe another person something just because they treat Coirpre with the decency he’s entitled to as a person,” he chuckles, taking off his finger like that. “Now, the Yied.”

“Oh,” I recall the email I got from Bramsel. “I just want to know how to get there. I don’t have a car on my own, you know, so I commute. The night I met you was the night I did an interview with the club owner—not at their hub, though,” I respond, recalling the flyer I answered mindlessly because I simply needed the extra credit for internship and something to write on my CV. And sure, the money. “So the owner wanted to hire me for a dance. I picture… around post-dinner time until midnight?” I clasp my chin. “So like, if I have to hail a taxi or ride a night bus or something—I need to know where I should wait. I’m not sure if my train will still run around that time.”

“I see,” he mutters, directing his legs inside with me walking beside him. And I notice he doesn’t need to slow down—neither do I have to hasten my paces to catch up with him. He’s getting used to my speed just like I am to his… ah, right, lately we see each other pretty often, huh…

“And I want to be home. Not only do I want to check on Coirpre, but he tends to worry when I work late night,” I add, feeling embarrassed. “He isn’t really… a fan of dancers. Perhaps I shield him too much.”

“… He’s a little boy. It’s only normal that he’s worried, just like you to him,” Ares glances at the sky. “… I know how it feels. Feeling like unable to shield your family, especially when the father isn’t around.”

“… Ares?”

“Ah,” he acts like he’s snapping out of an old memory. “Right. And this is for Thursday?”

“Yeah! Tomorrow night,” I bite my lips. “I’m confident about the dancing part, but the environment…”

“Suffocating?” he asks, with his hands in his pocket.

“I think that’s a wise way to put it,” I nod. “… Ah. Is that because you ride around here often?”

“Now _that’s_ a wise way to put it,” he smiles faintly. “… I frequented the Yied often, last winter to spring.”

“Oh. The deliveries?”

“… Something else too,” huh, he sounds hesitant. “I’ll take you if it’s alright.”

“Really?” I beam at him. “I mean—first Coirpre, and then…”

He places his index finger over my lips again. “I said no need.”

I catch that finger, playfully pinning it downwards. “Katame-waza?”

He chuckles. “No. Yubi-gatame,” gently rotating his hand to reverse my grip, he points where my hand stays. “The katame-waza Chalphy is proficient at locks the arm,” he pats his own shoulder, “while yubi-gatame takes the fingers. I don’t need much if I can just stop you by holding you at a dead angle.”

Well, that’s true. His palm presses against the sides of my palm, and despite the name, his yubi-gatame stops the fingers at one turn before rapidly moving to press against the joints where the thumb and pinky finger start. It feels like being held by a finger cuff—your hand is still free, but you can’t use it. “… Was it that bad that you had to know these techniques to… survive?” I look at him. His eye twitches when I said techniques somehow. “I was just wondering why you know a lot.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t,” he replies in a simple manner. “Five thirty on Thursday then?”

“… At my door?” somehow my voice is like… leaving me.

“If it’s convenient for you,” he smiles then. “Doesn’t sound decent enough for me if I get there and make you walk to the basement for me.”

“You know—actually, going is… easy. But coming home?” I clasp my chin again. “That’s the real question. I don’t know what I should ride at that hour. Do taxis go around there at midnight?”

“Yes. But the environment isn’t so welcoming,” he ponders. “Well, I’ll send you home as well.”

“Ares—that means you’re going to wait on me working for the entire evening!” I _stare_ at him. “Like, there may be four to five hours for you to be idle. Why, you’re not my page.”

“No. But like I said, I need to read books and study,” he pats my shoulder. “And I need to sketch, still. I suppose with my laptop running my design on AutoCAD, that will keep me busy and I can talk to my classmates.”

“Oh, Ares—!” really—look at me, beaming at him… again.

“There’s a 24-hour Starbucks or Waffle House nearby that place if I recall,” he contemplates. “So I’ll fortify myself there. When you finish, just text me.”

“Alright,” I murmur. Everything feels so nice at the moment…

“You can call,” he says, with an equally soft voice. “… Or give me a miss-call and I’ll call back.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do I. He appears rather pensive if not melancholic after the playful questions regarding those grappling moves, so I guess I’ll just respect this silence as well. I insisted Coirpre to be respectful of his private life, and I should follow my advice too. After all, Ares is already so kind like this. He really sees everything through even though he can just take himself out of the picture anytime, and yet, for Coirpre—no, for me as well—and even Diarmuid or Seliph, he…

… Suddenly I had a simple wish. To be able to really make him feel so comfortable, like… hugging him. Washing that melancholy away. Suddenly I wonder who helped him in return when he needed it. Suddenly I really wanted to know him—more than ever. Not through Google or any machine without a heart—suddenly I hope he can trust me enough to share his burden with me…

… I’m not sure what this feeling is, but there’s… warmth in it as well? Can it be that I caught the summer virus which Ares told me earlier? Oh, gods—I forgot to ask if his checkup from the hospital said anything!

* * *

 

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Heading to #YiedAve wish me luck u_u_

**_larceiheyhey_ ** _Omg. **@dancedancerebellion** For a dance? Text me when you get home!_

**_pheeew @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Alone?? Wew, had I known, I wouldn’t drive Ced tonight!_

**_nunsfighttoo @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Do you have… pepper spray or something? Legal? **@schalphy**_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Hiii girls ^^ I’m optimistic I’ll be alright. After all, life can’t stand a chance against one (1) Lene! Gotta gather them DILFs. Thx tho love you XOXO **@larceiheyhey @pheeew @nunsfighttoo**_

**_larceiheyhey @dancedancerebellion_ ** _… You’re a sugar baby now? :O_

**_dancedancerebellion @larceiheyhey_ ** _Nooo omggg Dollars I’d Like to Forage :(( lol!_

**_pheeew_ ** _Uhhh if you could wait in like 1hr & ½ I’ll be there **@dancedancerebellion**_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Awh it’s so nice but pls don’t leave Ced unattended! ^^ Anyway, **@anblacknight** promised to drive me! **@pheeew**_

**_larceiheyhey_ ** _… Ares is your bodyguard for the night? **@dancedancerebellion** cc **@anblacknight**_

**_pheeew_ ** _> NIGHT >> BODYGUARD PFFFT **@anblacknight @dancedancerebellion**_

**_lightprincess @dancedancerebellion_ ** _I shall leave Ares in your care then ^^_

H-haha, hahaha, the girls are filling up my comments! And… G-God, was that Nanna commenting the latest? I really want to eat my concealer now. And why is she trusting Ares in _my_ care? If anything, it’s Ares who has been taking care of me these past few days!

I lock my phone and return it into my purse, facing my mirror one more time to check on my appearance. Okay, hair done, makeup done. I guess I’ll just opt out wearing ponytail this time because otherwise I’d look younger. I let my hair down, putting a blood-red lipstick instead of my typical salmon and coral-colored lip gloss and lipsticks which typically look good on my skin tone. I’m pretty satisfied with this new take—I thought fiery red will hate me, but turns out I… d-did everything rather splendidly, I guess, even if I said so myself? Heeheheee~! See, fairer skin doesn’t own beauty!

I don’t really feel like spending more time to stay there than what I have to, so I pick out a more practical outfit because that way I expect to bolt out after my work is done. Now, the real challenge is to look cute as usual but not pretty enough to make Bramsel… errr, leer at me.

… Okay, I guess I’ll settle with my ankle-length black boots then. Skinny jeans sounds interesting to me, but I need something better than an outfit combination which screams cozy college girl going out. I decide to settle on a cute floral blouse with middle thigh-length jeans skirt. Rather longer than a mini. I don’t feel like putting anything too daring because… well, night club. Bramsel. I believe a passionate performance and even aura of sexiness can be evoked regardless of the outfit. I want to throw some thigh-high, but it’s summer. Throwing something lacey, either I’ll look like a kid or… too daring. Sigh. I really have no idea what to do anymore, so I guess… fishnet stockings? But their color is not black or red-sexy—rather than that, they’re white with rhinestones. Should be cute instead? And nice contrast with the dark blue jeans, right?

… My brain is a potato. Perhaps it’s sexier but then again you can cover yourself with a sack and a pervert will still find you alluring. Sigh. Regardless, Bramsel already agreed to hire me. He can’t turn me down even if I show up wearing a food bag over my head! And the stage is mine—criticize me all you want, but my dance will silence them up.

Y-you know, maybe I should just do that. Channeling my inner Diogenes and showing up at Bramsel’s face in nothing but old rag I weave around my body like a tunic, covered in dirt and start calling out rich people as Diogenes said—that there isn’t a place to spit in a rich man’s house but his face.

Whatever. I throw a pink cardigan to conclude everything, and snap a photo.

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _I’m not sure lol my brain went potato._

**_amalduh @dancedancerebellion_ ** _I’m a fan of your styles tho lol that still looks cute :)_

**_gaebolg @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Yeah haha it’s still cute but also badass somehow??_

**_pheeew @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Pretty sexy sisss >:3 _

**_larceiheyhey @dancedancerebellion @pheeew_ ** _Yeah but at the same time it has that vibe which says cute in a fun way and ‘I can kill you if you keep looking at me’ 8)_

**_junglerose_ ** _Now now, fair Larcei!! Must you dream of killing men all the time? **@larceiheyhey** is there something I can do to ease your pain? **@dancedancerebellion** oh, mine eyes hath seen glory!_

**_larceiheyhey @junglerose_ ** _Yes, Iuchar. By STFU :)_

**_dialdfordiarmuid @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Permission to compliment, Ma’am_

**_anblacknight @dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Denied_

**_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _YOU ARE ARES YOUR NAME IS NOT FUCKING LENE, MEOW **@anblacknight**_

**_anblacknight_ ** _IT’S JUST LENE NOT ‘FUCKING LENE’ YOU MONSTER **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

**_queenbee @dancedancerebellion_** _Nice outfit, slut_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _Is that your pack :) **@queenbee** _

**_friegish_ ** _Oh, that’s a brave choice **@dancedancerebellion**. Now I’m feeling adventurous as well…_

**_darkscion_ ** _I’m down for anything with you in anything babe **@friegish** I’m not vegan :)))_

The bell rings. I leap to get it, finding a handsome Ares standing at the threshold. He wears comfortable grayish-green tactical pants, topped with a long-sleeved dark green shirt he rolls up to his elbows with a criss-cross pull-string accent on the upper chest area. He pairs his outfit with nice, sturdy-looking military-style dark brown combat boots. He smiles, clearing his throat when looking at me while I clear mine as my eyes make of his appearance in return.

We say goodbye to Coirpre, with me setting his dinner nearby so he won’t have to walk to reach for it. Again, without any chit-chat Ares simply leads me to the basement where he parked, and in no time we’re already at the road again to get to the Yied. It takes about an hour or more with him taking shorter routes, and I secretly thank my luck because regardless of how peasant-looking my place is, I’m glad that I don’t live close to the club—or Bramsel.

On the other hand, Ares’ smooth navigation piques my curiosity! He seems to know this area well. W-what if he was here because he… sought for entertainment—if you know what I mean? What if Ares frequented one of those… gentlemen’s club? H-haha, why do I think of these things out of a sudden…

I spot the Starbucks Ares spoke of prior, and he did reach the place to park. “It’s there,” he points at the flashy building across the street, with its neon lettered lights and cars pulling in and out.

“Okay,” I exhale, bracing myself. “I got this.”

“If you don’t feel comfortable…” he fiddles with the bike’s handlebar.

“I’m professional,” I smile at him.

“I know. I’m the first witness,” he smiles a little. “Still, contact me.”

“I’ll tell you when I’m done,” I ruffle his mane gently this time. “Bye, Ares~! Have fun studying!”

“… Hold on,” he stops me. “I’ll take you cross the street.”

I let him leading me to cross. A couple of tough-looking guys perching themselves around the front door look so _stunned_ when they see Ares. Even some suspicious-looking guys in track suits stop chatting and crouching—first they whistle at me, making a kissy sound, and then they instantly shut up when Ares _gloriously_ glares like a preying lion as he fences me from them. “… The fuck you think you’re doing?”

“Wew, chill, mate. Didn’t know she’s got a plus one.”

“Doesn’t matter, asswipe. You do that once again, I break your windpipe.”

Right when I start worrying how they’ll take his warning, someone exits the club, bellowing at the track suit group to stay away. Muttering under his breath, I recognize him as Javarro—the guy who follows Bramsel around like a bodyguard or something.

“Black Knight?”

Huh?

Even Ares appears to be startled. It’s like the Ares I’ve come to know so far dissolves—he turns around, looking so, so incredibly surprised to find Javarro there. And that moment he’s no longer a lion—but an innocent, innocent cub. Like his guard is torn to pieces in a way which makes me feel… wary and a bit uncomfortable. I mean—why? And why did Ares look so… taken aback?

“My boy!” Javarro chuckles boisterously. “Your fangs are still sharp. Miss this place?”

… Huh??

“… Just giving a friend a ride,” Ares averts his eyes from Javarro’s.

“Why, perfect timing. Bramsel would be glad to see you again. Come inside! A royal like you shouldn’t be wallowing in a coffee shop like some pitiful nerd, after all,” Javarro pats him, and my eyes widen when Ares takes a step back, looking so uncomfortable being welcomed like that.

“I figured I don’t mind being this pitiful nerd,” he puts his hands in his pocket. “Need to study. Sorry.”

“For real now?” Javarro looks at Ares again. “You’re kidding. You know you belong here. You’re a lion after all; a peaceful environment doesn’t suit you. Stop wasting your time trying to be good like that.”

“Wrong!” I ball my fists at the sides. “Ares is not a monster and that environment will do well with him.”

“… Ah, Lene,” he murmurs, like he’s apologizing to me.

“You,” Javarro scans me. “Oh, the little dancer Bramsel hired for today. Why are you wasting time here? I’m the head bouncer, missy. Get to work,” he shoves me to get inside the club. “And well, Black Knight! What should I get you? I bet with a couple of tequila shots, we will…”

“… No, Javarro,” Ares shakes his head with a determined smile and resolved expression. “That is past and I’ve made it clear I don’t want to go back there ever again. Sorry, gotta study now.”

“Oh, really. Wanting to pull a good boy act on me now, aren’t you? Heh. Go, be pathetic all you want. I tell you what, you’re naïve as fuck thinking there’s a more welcoming place than here, my boy. After all, what can you do? You know nobody wants you. There’s nothing you’re good at besides fighting, anyway—why are you shunning the only glory rightfully belongs to you? Where is the Ares I used to know—now begging on the Heaven’s door wanting to be a reformed man or some other bullcrap?”

T-that’s… wow, that’s really harsh…

But Ares simply turns his back, proceeding to cross the street again. He still has his hands in the pocket, but from the way he carries his walk, I can see that he’s a little shaken. His back appears so lonely like he’s burdened, and if not for this hellish job I would have run after him!

“Still here?” Javarro suddenly turns at me, glaring like he’s ready to tear me apart. “Get to work.”

“Y-yes,” I quickly run inside. It’s as if he’s angry at me! Why? For standing up? It’s like he blames me that Ares chose to leave him instead of entertaining his verbal abuse like that! Why did he call Ares all these things? Why did he make it like Ares was some sort of good-for-nothing person who rages and destroys?

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Have a sneak-peek_

Ares just sent me a photo of what he’s working on. It’s of his screen with AutoCAD running and judging from the structure, it appears to be a park.

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _A garden or some sort? ^^_

**_anblacknight  
_ ** _Public, yes. And I’ll fill it with… flowers._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Awh that’d be lovely <33_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I got inspired lately._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Ahhh is that so? Summer lovin’ had me a blast~ summer lovin’ happened so fast~~_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
I met a girl—_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
:O_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Hahaha._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Tell me more, tell me more, was it love at first sight~?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Are you dancing to Grease?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Nooope x))_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Hey, Lene?_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Met a boy, cute as can be~_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Aaaaa. Yesss?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Don’t worry about me._

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Wonder what she’s doing now._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Tell me more, tell me more like did you get very far~_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Summer heat, boy and girl meet_

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
But ah, oh, those summer nights!_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Right._

**_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Mood improved?_

**_anblacknight_ ** _  
Yeah :)_

Hnnn? We quoted lyrics like this? Haha, so he can do that too! I do hope he’s truly alright…

I’m glad that my interaction with Bramsel is short, perhaps because I’ve spent some precious minutes gaping upon seeing Javarro chewing Ares like that. Still, I can’t shake that unnerving feeling when Bramsel _giddily_ shakes my hand, muttering a thing or two about me being so cute and that he’s been taking Pilates to keep his stamina in prime condition. Eeew. First thing first, you’re old enough to be my father and probably even more! Second, well, there’s HR if your coworker is a pervert. But if it’s the boss—no, _owner_?

I throw my cardigan, bundling my purse inside at the backstage. The music starts playing, so I concentrate on the stage instead of Bramsel’s _enthusiastic_ stares on me. The music itself isn’t that bad—the DJ is great, and the lighting perfect. The crowd is pretty nice too, they are having fun and many are truly interested in my dances. Some keep throwing their hands as I move, and some brave maneuvers like scissoring or my using the stool to my creativity earn sincere great applauses.

Wiping my forehead when everything ends, Bramsel approaches me with a drink in his hand. Congratulating me, he enthusiastically shakes my hand again, and I know I have to _pull_ my hand on my own because he seems to be reluctant to let me go. I politely tell him that I can’t drink because one shot alone is enough to floor me, and he laughs like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire (sad) life.

Perhaps it’s true. I don’t actually drink so far, you know? Like, I tried, but like, I don’t, regularly. And I’m always careful when I work—I’m not accepting drinks I don’t see being made or opened in front of me. There are too many stories which make me shudder, and no, I don’t want to be another statistic.

I’d rather get to the Starbucks to quickly see Ares again. I don’t even want to waste another minute redoing my hair and everything—I just quickly don my cardigan again, take my purse, and walk up to the lady at the office area behind the DJ to get my money. I’m thankful Bramsel isn’t there because he likes to mingle with people as well. Quite a savvy entrepreneur, but with that creepy attitude… who cares.

I simply shove the money I got into my purse, half-flying to reach the door. I keep my phone with me in case I need to contact Ares. W-what did he say… call? Gods, why do I feel so shy imagining the idea of hearing his voice on the phone?!

I meet Javarro again by the door, and he makes that disapproving growling sound like a wolf. I shudder. I want to get out, but he stops me. “You know Ares?” he roughly asks.

“… Do you?” I stare at him back, and he’s so baffled being talked back like that.

“If I do?” he quickly takes a hold of himself then. “What did you do to the mighty Black Knight?”

I exhale. Mighty Black Knight. Why, it’s just Ares to me… “And what did YOU do?”

Javarro is stunned where he stands. “… What did _I_ do, you said?”

“Yes,” I defy his eyes then. “What did you do? Why is he the Black Knight?”

He appears awkward, like realizing he shouldn’t pull this on me. Perhaps because he only exposed himself there, or perhaps because he realized he couldn’t just bend me. “Get out of here,” he finally howls like an offended wolf.

“With pleasure!” I say that at his face. Huffing, I turn around, walking in dignity and grace like I’m a royal being welcomed with a red carpet.

… But of course, it’s not that I actually enjoy being brave—I have to, and I need to. Right when Javarro is no longer within my line of vision, I shudder, my hands start to tremble that I just want to see Ares again. I know I’m unnerved. And I’ve been feeling uncomfortable even before I entered the club. I don’t want to anticipate that Javarro regains his senses only to decide to lash at me. And I just want to go home before Bramsel decides to look for me…

… Suddenly I feel so bad. Perhaps this place does evoke a… bad, unpleasant memory for Ares. And he still drove me, knowing well where I’d be, knowing well he’d revisit this place again. Knowing well he might be meeting the people he wanted to avoid, knowing well he had to reopen a chapter of a life he wishes to forget. God, suddenly I just want to be near Ares…

My shoes make clicking sounds as I race against the concrete pavement. Just one-two buildings away until the club is completely out of my sight, and I figured neither Javarro nor Bramsel would entertain the idea of having to run for around two hundred meters just to chew me alive.

I’m not going back here, never. And I won’t take Ares here if what awaits him is pure hostility like that…

I look left and right. The Starbucks is literally just a building away from across the street! Waiting under a street lamp, I exhale, taking out my phone from my jeans’ pocket to contact Ares. At least I feel safer here because I’m a distance away from the night club—from Bramsel…

… Hnnn, how should I contact him? Texting? I guess it won’t hurt. I’m too shy to call somehow…

_I’m_

Sent prematurely. M-my hands are still trembling a little bit.

_Done_

Sent.

_Across the street_

I can hear someone whistling behind me. Javarro? How persistent. Perhaps he feels disrespected?

“Heyyyooo, Miss!”

T-that voice. Not Javarro. N-not… not Javarro’s voice?

I turn around.

… My mistake.

It’s those guys in track suits, lingering at a dark alley. The street lamp glows, somberly illuminating the alley which helps me make of the vision before me. There are eight of them. Eight of them smirking at me like a pack of hyenas, and their expression vary. Like there’s grudge, but there’s also curiosity mixed into a bowl. But not the kind of weird grudge like that campus creeper had. Like there’s this actual anger somehow, from the way they scoff and smirk at me. Like there’s an account waiting to be paid.

I want to cross the street, but a luxurious sports car speed off right in front of me.

“In a hurry?” they approach. I just lost my first chance to escape.

“Do I know you?” I keep my voice calm, trying to buy my time because of the car rush.

“No. But we know him,” they sneer. And I get reminded of that jock captain who nearly clashed against Ares—someone who seemed to be utterly disturbed if not _disgusted_ by him. Are they, too…?

My phone flashes, and I quickly take it when I feel it vibrating in my pocket.

“No, no.”

My eyes widen. The closest guy to me just snatched my phone off my hand like that, roughly, carelessly, and the screen is still flashing before my nose. “What the hell? Return it!” I leap on my toes to get it back, but two other hold me still while the guy who got my phone fiddles with it.

“That Black Knight dude,” he says wryly, “he’s a volcano contained in an oven.”

“Creative,” I scoff. “Ares is not…”

“Ssh,” he pats my cheek. “He’s the kind of guy nobody wants to meet at a dark alley. From here and one-two blocks ahead, he had it under his palm like a turf because nobody could stand him in a fight.”

“The fiercest of all bouncers, that Black Knight,” one of them nods in unison.

… Bouncer. Ares is—was a bouncer? So he worked for… Javarro?

“We got a score to settle, you see?” the one who snatches my phone now mindlessly presses a button before pocketing it in his pocket. O—oh, what should I do now? He’s got my phone! “Won’t dream him to step here again, defanged and docile like that. If he likes it good, then he should know he can’t be.”

… What?

“Overlording us when he was one of us and still doing that when he gets back like this new reformed man slash honor student or some shit? I don’t think so.”

“Overlording?! You people picked fight against him all the time—a fight he never even wanted! You’re just mad because he refuses to follow your path and be with you, and you hold a grudge against him like he’s personally dissing you?” I shout back. “You’re jealous because he’s not going to beg and wail like any other street-roamer you know. Even if he’s here as one of you, in the end there’s only jealousy.”

“Oi, oi, that’s enough. Not you too.”

“No—how dare you!” I yelp when one of them yank my hair. They grab me, pinning me against the wall and for a second my memory at Tirnanog flashes in my mind. “Why do you people keep blaming Ares for everything? Damn if he does what you want, damn if he doesn’t—“ I stop talking when I feel something grazes me. I can’t—believe it—one of them conveniently slapped me! Out of reflex I bring my hand to feel my cheek. It’s flaming-hot now, and suddenly my voice dies in my throat. They—hit me. They just hit me! And it’s like all their pent-up anger against Ares unleashes spectacularly all at once, and they decided to just unfairly project everything on me.

“Finally you shut up,” the one who just did that glares at me. “You’re no Black Knight.”

“You’re not him either,” I hiss back, trying to numb the throbbing pain on my cheek. “And will never be.”

“Really, now?” the one who took my phone shakes his head. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

No, but I’ve got a temper. And if they think they can corner me spitting nonsense like this, they better be prepared getting called out and have their idiocy exposed. What’s this predatory… I don’t know, culture? No wonder it’s hard for men to sympathize—perhaps it’s not like all men are unfeeling, but the circumstance is like that crab mentality where one will be dragged back into this toxic environment and false idealism of masculinity if one decides to part ways.

I need to think quickly.

I hammer my heel against the guy who got my phone. He’s shocked when my boot slams against his solar plexus, but power or no power, I’m a dancer—I’ve got the flexibility I can count in. He tumbles and chokes on his own breath and I quickly take my phone back. Gasping, I try to unlock it in a blaze, making a quick decision whether I should call Ares or—

“Feisty little one, aren’t you?”

I whimper when one of them slaps the phone off my hand. Poor Rose lands somewhere at the mouth of the alley, and they drag me back inside when I run to get it—and out. There are eight of them. I can’t win this fight. I have to run—or at least make a mess. Would Javarro help me if he sees me like this? Perhaps he would. Perhaps Bramsel would. After all from the first look of it, Javarro didn’t seem to like these guys either. But really now—owing Javarro or Bramsel my life? … I _loathe_ the idea.

“Look at the Black Knight running back with his tail between his legs,” I hear malicious chuckles. “You think he cares? Really? YOU? The likes of you aren’t new. You know what this place is, no?”

… Okay, that one hits and stings. … Does Ares care? And—for real, if he’s used to be around here, then…

“Call your Black Knight,” they chuckle. “That guy doesn’t care for anything else other than his anger.”

“He was so strong, you know? Nobody could stand up after running into him one of those nights.”

I bite my lips. They press against me, like truly enjoying the idea that I just realized who Ares actually is. Like they’re giddy thinking they’ve exposed Ares as a primal beast, like they’re laughing at me for even try convincing them that Ares is just Ares who goes to school and overall not a shady person. And more importantly, they look at me in such a way as if they’re taking their grudge on Ares instead of me.

From here I can see that my phone is still flashing. I hope it’s not because the screen is malfunctioning considering they threw it off my clutch like that…

Just then, I make a decision. “Help!” I scream out, as loud as I can muster. Perhaps not a wise one because no car stops and passerby hardly bat an eye. Is this one of those bystander effects, or is it because it’s Yied Avenue that people are… used to having this kind of occurrence around?

“I’m gonna get real rough this time if you won’t shut up.”

… No—

“LION!”

They look at each other, looking utterly confused. And—me too. I shouted it out of reflex, I don’t know why, that’s… that’s the first thing which crossed my mind right when I started thinking of Ares again. Is it because I was subconsciously aware that they might hurt me even more if I screamed for a help again? Or is it because of something…

“Lion?” they repeated, laughing mercilessly at me like a bully crowding their peer. Even one of them has the gall to twirl a strand of my hair! Hnnngh! “Ooo, lion. What a pity, so cute yet so dumb.”

I hear footsteps. If it’s Javarro or Bramsel—honestly, I’d rather die, perhaps. Whoever it is that strolls in has their hands in their pockets, and I can’t make of the appearance because these shady bunch of assholes are surrounding me. And totally unexpected to me, the person crouches, picking up my phone.

… Oh, great. Now my phone is calmly stolen before me too?

I bite my lips. I just need to survive this world. I just need to get paid. I was just stating the truth when I stood up for Ares because I know the Ares I’m speaking of—the Ares I’ve seen again and again proving himself to be unlike of those typical rough folks, both behind me or with me around.

A—and my phone. Bills. Money. Livelihood—Coirpre waiting for me at home, my friends worrying me—

“You called for me?”

… Eh?

The footsteps come this way. Closer, closer, closer… but confident at the same time like he—yeah, another man! Just my LUCKY day, isn’t it?!—doesn’t need to rush because he knows what he expects.

“And this phone doesn’t belong to any of you.”

The footsteps stop. And the crowd is so appalled that they stop cornering me for a second. I hammer my foot against another guy’s shin, not wanting to miss my chance to flee. Running to the front part of this alley, I meet the newcomer who has my phone…

… It’s Ares.

G-God, it’s Ares! It’s Ares…

… Except he’s not Ares-Ares.

His expression is calm, but if those eyes can commit a war crime then everything his gaze landed upon would have been _mutilated_ to pieces. So, so ferocious is the look he spares at this offending crowd, like there’s unmasked insatiable bloodlust reflecting in his eyes. His lips are pursed tightly, and judging from how stiff his body language is, this Ares... no— _lion,_ is ready to pounce and hunt.

He hands my phone back to me, and right when I want to sigh because the screen only suffers some scratches, his hand gently caresses my face. “… Who did this?”

… Somehow it’s so sad that he only touches my face when he’s ready to unleash hell on a fight…

“Can I get an answer, or do I have to _choke_ it out of you?” he walks again, approaching the folks closer that his body begins to shield mine. “… And by that I mean _all_ of you.”

“Ares, there are eight of them…” I whisper, nudging him from behind.

“Yeah. So stay behind me.”

… Huh?

“I told you not to touch the rabbit,” he eyes the offending party one by one. “Do not mark what I did.”

H-huh??

“What can a defanged lion do?” one of them chuckles.

“Let’s find out,” Ares replies calmly. _… Venomously_ calmly.

I hold my breath. Eight against one. The folks there are thrown in between—like some look like they’re gleefully itching for a fight, while some other start to be doubtful. They’ve dissed Ares so much but apparently the image of a ferocious Black Knight is still strong enough in their mind that it’s hard to shake it away once the lion decides to go… _lion._ With capital L too, perhaps.

And just like that, they lunge at him.

… Something feels different this time.

I’ve seen Ares fighting people before, but this time something feels… different. He still moves seamlessly as always, but his strikes—there are no wasted fancy movements, just pure explosive power pouncing against his enemies one by one. He’s truly hunting them, and this time I sense increased brutality in it somehow. A crescent kick practically hits one guy hard just under the collarbone, flooring him like a sack. When another person is ready to kick him, he does something like hooking the other person’s leg with his dominant leg, sweeping him hard against the pavement. The third guy lunges from behind the person he just took down, and a strong, middle-punch from such close angle flies so fast making the new challenger pales out of getting hammered in the solar plexus.

H-he already knocks three guys out in the span of a minute or so. Everything happens so swiftly, so fast like his opponents didn’t even notice what actually hit them. “Ares, from your sides!” I scream at him. Two out of the remaining five tries to corner him from each side, hoping to blindside him. Ares simply throws his head back, and opening his legs, he twists around, making a pivot point with his hips while keeping his upper body as straight as possible.

Just then his kick flies again.  It’s something like a roundhouse-kick—I don’t know—but it’s circular with a hooking effect or something. He hits the first cornering attacker with his sole, and that guy couldn’t escape because the rotating hook movement makes it impossible for him to withdraw his face.

The kick Ares launches mercilessly lands against his face while his forehead crassly bumps against the lion’s knee. “Thanks,” the lion grins. “Was this the one who slapped you?”

“Y-yes…”

“Fully paid. I just slapped him back,” he wickedly smirks again. G-gods. But he quickly turns around to face the other person who corners him from the side. Dodging a fist thrown at him, Ares takes a small step, his dominant leg tethers against the back of his knee. In a second he launches a side kick as the pivot leg makes a snap. His dominant leg gets the attacker at the chin, and he completes the job by casually rotating again, landing a backfist strike with his left hand.

Meanwhile his defense remains impenetrable, and it seems everything only causes the remaining guys to be so mad that they decide to come at him all at once in a trio. One of them lunges a punch at him, and he catches it in the same manner he showed me back then at Jugdral-U’s southern parking lot. … Is that the yubi-gatame he talked about because… w-wow, didn’t know it could be _that_ fierce. Regardless, his opponent wails in pain when he did that, more so when he twists the wrist to incapacitate him. That person’s cohort charges, trying to steal a chance since Ares’ hand is still entangled with the opponent he incapacitated, but he dodges and weaves the other guy’s arm into a joint-lock.

I _stare._ It’s pretty similar to what Seliph did back then. And back then I semi-teased him asking if he could do that; the question which he refused to answer. … Did he just…

Ares tosses two opponents he caught and incapacitated. The last person tries to kick him back in the ribs, but he catches the leg, locking that man’s thigh with his forearm he keeps steady by the waist. “Stop struggling, or you’ll break it,” he whispers ominously. “Your choice?”

“Gah—fuck!”

“That’s not in the menu,” Ares’ eyes narrow… menacingly. A predator, I thought—a predator who will not let his prey escape. The other one who previously attempted to kick him is white in fright, and Ares simply sneers at him. He pushes the other guy oh-so-casually that the latter lands with his face first against the concrete blocks. “I’ve got more to show in case you guys are still curious of what I can do.”

“N-no—“

“No? Are you sure…”

Ares doesn’t look like he’s willing to conclude everything just yet! He hovers closer, closer, closer… like he won’t be satisfied until his opponents turn into a pile of cold, unmoving defeated… bodies.

And in that very moment, I pull him back.

He flinches and growls like an ambushed lion. But I hold still, trying to stop his arm with mine encircling it.  “Ares,” I whisper his name… “Ares? Ares…” … again and again.

I feel that he’s slowly relaxing under my touch. He loosens his stance, and his fists are no more balled as he exhales. “… I…”

“You won,” I whisper to him again. “Let’s go back. This is enough, you know? This has to be enough.”

He lets me ushering him from them. He doesn’t protest when I lead him walk some more so we’re away from the offending crowd just now, and he’s still pensive as we wait for vehicles to disperse so we can cross the road. My hand travels upwards, touching his arm lightly. … Such a strong lion. Such vindictive anger—the vindication he unleashes on… _my_ behalf.  Like after seeing him butting heads against other people, it’s like none of those strikes are taken to avenge himself—it’s always because of something, a cause… if not a person. When he stops being a silent follower as he challenged the campus creeper to fight him at Jugdral-U’s southern parking lot for making unsavory comments towards the girls I coach. When he saved me from that so-called warm jock at the sports hall. When he couldn’t care less the jock captain chewed him at the warehouse the day he presented his blueprint, but the moment the jock insulted me, it’s like he didn’t care whatever the terrain was. When he threw away his pride to team up with Seliph. When he just… never flaunted his prowess to me or everyone else, the way he wasn’t even angry when Fee was about to smack him while Larcei hounded him, thinking he made me sad. And he didn’t even bother to defend himself—he simply answered as it was because Larcei _asked._

And I got reminded of other things. Like when he went out of his way to help that old lady from the minimarket. When he answered my questions about soccer when I didn’t know it was him answering queries for Lionheart Kitchen on his mother’s behalf. When he prep-talked Coirpre and actually showed my brother that brute strength was… _bad._ When he actually ordered food for Coirpre. When he had no problem shopping in bulk for his mother—aunt, and did his share of chores without batting an eye.

… The innocent, curious, kitty-like Ares who looked at my food in fascination like it was magic. The Ares who asked questions in the most endearingly-dorkish way possible; his naïve quips and commentaries…

The Ares who fought for people through his Agustrian project—the Ares who is shunned, too…

… Or the Ares who appears to be hurting based on the things I picked up through his interactions with Altena, Diarmuid, Nanna, and then Seliph. The Ares who seemed to witness many traumatic experiences growing up based on what he told me.

… The Ares who is aware I like strawberries and yields to my pudding or the cappuccino I made him try.

That’s why! T-that’s why, after knowing him like this, how could I… think of him as a monster?

He still doesn’t say anything when we cross the street. Not wanting to be alone I follow him to get his bike, and he seems to understand because he lets me walk first with him behind.

Sounds of motorbike starting startles me. “… People back there said a thing or two about you,” I say.

“I guess you need an explanation,” he comments.

“Let’s ride first and talk later,” I squeeze his arm again, and he exhales.

“… With you like that, I’m so lucky.”

“Hnnn?”

“Let’s talk later, you said?” he replies in a jesting manner, but his smile is sad.

We aren’t saying anything as we ride. The breeze is cool, and the moon up there is calming. I can spot some stars and I wish those celestial beings can actually help Ares feeling more at peace, because he knows after this he’ll tell me a chapter of his life he probably even loathes.

His back looks so burdened and lonely all of the sudden…

Regardless, we get back to my apartment without hassle because by the time we got to the main road— which would take us to my neighborhood—it was already around half an hour past midnight, and the street starts to be emptier. Well, first thing first is my neighborhood and this part of the suburb I live in isn’t a business or lively place like the Yied or the elite concrete jungle where Master Cakes is.

Ares locks his bike at the parking lot, walking me to the elevator then. And he suddenly chuckles…

“My father is a chivalrous man,” he says, like he _regrets_ it. “He’d say if you’re out with a lady, you should return her to her door just the way you picked her up.”

“Well, I guess that works well for your mother?” I smile at him.

“… I’m not knightly like that,” he responds, this time apologetic. And I’m not sure if it’s to me or to his father—to his bloodline, to his family in general like he’s been deviating a lot that he’s ashamed.

“Really, but just now, you…” trying to lighten the situation I let out a soft chuckle, pinching his nose.

The elevator stops and it only takes a few steps to get to my door. “… Lene, I…”

“Hmmm~?” I turn around, with my key already inside.

“… I’m a blackbelt.”

I stop. “You _have_ black belts, you said,” I pinch him again.

“Why, yes,” he smiles a little. “… But I _am_ a blackbelt. Second-degree in Shotokan—qualified for a third.”

The door opens. And I’m still standing at the threshold with him. “You’re a—karateka?”

“Well…” he has that sad look again.

“Come inside,” I gesture to the door, softly.

“I guess I don’t have a choice,” he chuckles sadly. “You need to interrogate me, anyway.”

“No, silly,” I yank his mullet. “Because it’s past midnight and talking on a sofa is more comfortable!”

“… Ah,” he looks surprised again. Like he anticipated I’d chew him out, kick him out, anything, anything but a basic courtesy of a warm drink in the middle of a night or that he can be a guest at a house.

“Nice, right~?” I smile at him, gently taking his wrist to pull him inside. “And this be katame-waza?”

“You just learned those words, didn’t you,” he chuckles a little bit. First thing first—I guess I’m dumb. Second, well, he seems to be amused, so… worth it?

“Probably,” I feign a pout. “So it will be great if you can tell me more about your art, don’t you think?”

“… Art, you said,” he sighs. “… Oh, rabbit…”

Hnnn? Did I do something spectacular? "Hehe. Come on, Ares, sit down, sit down,” I take him to the sofa, gently pushing him to sit down. “And here’s a cushion in black covering for today, so you don’t die.”

“How considerate,” he purses his lips, but accepts everything I give him, regardless.

“Right~? See, the sofa is gray. Aesthetic to have the cushion in black and white, right? Gradient!” I keep chirping, taking out two cups and saucers from a cupboard to prepare the tea. “I have these golden vegetal motifs for you, so it won’t be pink this time,” chuckling again, I pour the tea into the cups. “And it’s lemon, too! Preserving the health and of course, not sweet. I’ll bring the sugar container so you can…”

“… You…”

“Hnnn? Yeees, Ares, meow~?” I turn around. He has left the sofa, tailing me to the kitchen. He looks like he wants to say something, so I wait—with him being so close to me like this, with his eyes looking like they’re melting into a puddle of tenderness. Yielding, yielding tenderness and nothing more. He takes the cups from me, setting them aside on the kitchen counter. And again—unexpected to me, he looks down, his right hand is moving towards me again.

I wait.

I wait for him to withdraw; wondering if I’m repulsive for him to touch. And yet…

… This time he doesn’t.

“Excuse me a little bit,” he murmurs, as his hand gently strokes my face. “Let’s talk about you, Lene.”

“What—do you mean?”

“Like if this still stings,” his voice only gets softer as he keeps running his fingers on my face gently. “Like how brave you were,” he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “… And how—lucky I am.”

He pulls me in. A-and I let him…

“The pain will—stop in no time,” I whisper back, suddenly so breathless that he does these things. “And I wasn’t—brave. I merely told them this alleged human Ares I know. And I was just trying to kick—”

His index finger flies onto my lips again. “Ssh,” he hums. “Let’s take turn. Please accept my compliment.”

“… Alright,” I nod, brushing his fingertips against mine so I can answer. He smiles a little, still looking like he’s got something to say but withdrawing in the very last moment. Like he’s _dying_ to, but for some reason, he holds back. He takes over the teacups from me, setting it on the coffee table before the sofa. He only seats himself after I settle, and I turn on the light then. “There you go!”

“Thank you,” he smiles a little.

“Oh—you got hit?” I look at him, noticing a bruise mark around his temple. “I’ve got ointment.”

“Just a scratch,” he says. “Better heal that one,” he then points on my cheek.

“… Just a scratch,” I copy his tone. “So…”

He takes a sip. “… Back then during kinesiology class you asked if I did karate for eight years.”

“Ah—yes,” I nod. “But you said no…”

“Because I didn’t,” there’s a sad bitter smile when he answers. “… I’ve been doing that for all my life. Started when I was around four. And now I’m twenty-one.”

“Wow,” I beam at him. “Just—wow. That’s admirable, Ares! Oooh gods—now I feel so dumb, with all the things I asked you or joked with you about.”

“Believe me, it’s just that. And please, don’t be,” he chuckles a bit. “First my dad taught me a bit. He’s a combat veteran, then worked office. I told you and Coirpre I was a timid kid growing up—he intended to make me healthier and because I’m his only child, he and my mom made me play sports.”

“And you were good at them?” I stick my tongue at him playfully.

“I guess?” he replies, starting looking relaxed. “I hope the kids I coach will say yes.”

I smile hearing that.

“Last winter, that business trip…” he closes his eyes.

“The one which got your father into an accident?” I ask carefully.

He nods. “My mom is a frail woman with a weak heart. With my father critically injured like that, we needed to scrape everything we could to survive,” he continues. “So she created Lionheart Kitchen. And just about time when my aunt Lachesis established Master Cakes with the little savings she could afford. She’s a strong, strong, peerless woman, my aunt. We shared whatever we could with each other. I did odd jobs—including… bouncing for Bramsel. I worked under Javarro back then.”

I hold my breath. “So that’s why he…”

“Yes,” Ares smiles sadly. “And the Yied was even more unforgiving back then. You can imagine—I appear soft, they said; I look like a rich kid, they said—and I refused. I didn’t want to do what they did—robbing old ladies, hurting people unnecessarily like that. And well, they—“

“—Wouldn’t accept?” I pat his hand. “… You did the right thing.”

“… It seems only you who would say that,” he chuckles bitterly.

“I’m an odd rabbit?” I tickle his ribs.

“… That’s why I’m lucky,” he pats me back. “So they came at me. First it was just… the usual. New kid at the block, and people were ready to inaugurate me.”

“… Without knowing you have years of shaped muscles under your belt?” I grin.

“Perhaps,” he smiles sincerely now. “But the street is less merciful than any kumite ring out there. Dirty tricks, stealth attacks—and Javarro took me in. Taught me things I needed to know to survive the street, including teaching me things he thought I need to know but not necessarily _like_.”

“And I murdered him verbally,” I playfully flex my biceps at him. “Which waza is this, Sensei?”

“… Dear rabbit,” he breathes, half-amused, half-astonished. “Needless to say, I was _so angry._ The boss was a selfish greedy turd—he and his company was supposed to pay for my father’s health insurance and all that, yet none, nothing, zero was spared for my mother and I. That’s why I said I’m not nice. Not kind—even more so chivalrous. I took it to the job—I never started any fight, but you can say I wasn’t so kind to people who came asking me for one.”

“… He didn’t pay your family?” I gasp. “Really?”

“If he’s got at least some decency, Agustria won’t turn into a neglected fuckfest,” he shrugs. “And I still remember that day. Christmas. Everything was cold, I needed to fight just to walk over the snow. And my poor mother overworked herself, lying in bed while my father was unconscious on a hospital bed. I was out thinking I could get a last-minute sandwich or something, and the car—I recognized it.”

“… The boss’?” I whisper.

“With a repulsive colleague called Manfroy or some shit. Who cares, belong in hell together,” he grits his teeth. “I stopped the car. Asked Chagall—the boss—to be responsible of what he caused my father. Got laughed at straight on my face. Got called everything you could think of. But when he called me son of a _bitch_ , I guess—well, the horses were out of the stable. I had him pinned to the ground. I didn’t even realize I had Manfroy cornered against the windshield. _Nobody_ shall insult my mother.”

… Somehow I understand. I can’t imagine what I’m _capable_ to do if Ishtar’s capo trio ever said something about my missing mother. Insult me, I don’t care. But insult Coirpre or my mother…

“I didn’t hurt Chagall,” he exhales. “But he and Manfroy—well, words traveled.”

“… And the… ring?” now this feels… even harder for him to speak…

“Sports competition,” he inhales heavily. “Jugdral-U seasonal matches—they disqualified me. And I figured it would be courteous of me to withdraw my application for promotional rank test as well.”

“… They?”

“Student body and fraternities. Maybe they never liked me,” he shrugs. “Probably in a similar fashion like those rogues at the Yied—I was never interested to be part of glory-hunter group. Somehow they found it. My job with Javarro, the street fights I got involved in, and how apparently I assaulted Chagall and all that. Rumors grew into something wicked. Like if I used girls, things like that…”

“You didn’t even dare coming into my house. How come this one is a conqueror?” giggling softly, I yank his mullet. Gently this time.

“… I’m aware I’m intimidating, Lene,” he ponders a little bit. “That’s why I kept thinking—someone like me shouldn’t be around someone like you. Because everything around me is dark while in your case…” he smiles then. “They said I was conceited as fuck. I didn’t have time to play—I went to school hungry and angrier than angry. If I didn’t take it on training or working, I might have lost myself. And I truly never thought I belonged somewhere. I’m aware of these things, so the last thing I could imagine would be intimidating a girl or forcing myself in.”

… Oh my GOD. S-so it’s not that he hates me? It’s just—he’s way too self-conscious that he wants people to feel safe… _from_ him?? “Hnnn—“

“Why, Lene, suddenly you look…”

“Of course I’m sad!! Please don’t say that!” I punch his shoulder, feeling the sturdiness of it that it bounces back my knuckles. “You’re not a burden! H-how dare you telling me all these things without taking your own advice? You knew how it was to feel so angry, sad, lonely, and HUNGRY. Gods—for a moment I thought you actually _hated_ me!! S-so it’s not that you… hate me, r-right…?”

“Hating you?” his eyes widen. “… Fucking fuck—and I swear—I won’t even dare thinking of it.”

“I figured you hated me chirping around you and fussing you,” I mumble.

“… If one is conditioned to live as a lone wolf,” he pats my head. “And suddenly there’s a joyful rabbit orbiting around him, don’t you think that person would feel rather…”

“… Annoyed?”

“Disoriented and in disbelief?” he quirks an eyebrow. “And of course, nobody ever worried whether I got hit or not before, so on behalf of all the lions in the world, sorry for being crass to you that night.”

“Oh—Gods,” I gasp.

“So like that, rabbit,” he chuckles this time. “… And—well, the person who collided with my dad’s car… it was Seliph’s father. Used to be friends, I heard, and my father being my father, holds no grudge whatsoever. Not even against Chagall. I feel like I’m absorbing all the anger he’s supposed to feel. Perhaps Seliph is nice. Perhaps his father tried the best to try minimizing the damage. But I can’t look at Seliph just like that. I just…” he contemplates his fist. “Maybe it’s wise to take me out of the ring. Otherwise I’d only destroy and destroy, including Seliph—Jugdral-U’s ace. I can’t fathom how he blurbs about wanting to have an amicable relationship with me, while…” he stops talking.

“… Yet you didn’t,” I whisper softly. “… Ares, you’re much more than what they said you were…”

He tilts his head at me.

“… Maybe my father is just dumb,” he replies bitterly. “If only he’d get angry and told me to—“

“Ares,” I call on him again, so he stops. “Ares, your father really is a kind man like you are.”

“… Lene?”

“I don’t know him. And I’m sorry in advance, but…” I smile at him. “Maybe that’s what he wanted to say. Because he’s so kind that he’d rather see you blossoming into a fine man—with Seliph and Leif by your side, the way he cherishes his friend. That he didn’t say what you thought he had to because above everything else, Ares… the only thing he wished for was for you to be happy and free.”

He pauses.

“And you are kind. Deep down you still care about us—which is why you want to forge Diarmuid so that he can win back those championship medals for Jugdral-U—and for Leif and Seliph as well?” I look at him, feeling so many things in my chest all at once. And my smile is still there, if not only gets... warmer. “Ah, I’ll take these cups to wash…” I gather our empty teacups to the kitchen. I can see him silently wiping his face with his sleeve—is he… oh, God—is he crying? If so, I hope it’s for a good reason. Like his burden being lifted off him. Please, for the love of everything Holy, please grant my wish ….

He has his hands on his face, half-crouching where he sits. If only I had to wash more cups, because I’d like him to have his own moment like this. A little bit longer until he feels better—but well, two teacups and saucers don’t take long to clean.

I grab the tissue box from the dinner table, slowly walking to him. He tilts his head when I get back, and I simply pass him the box with a comforting smile. “I’ve got plenty.”

He pauses.

He takes one.

I keep my smile. He takes another.

… And another…

He blows his nose into them, muttering a really sheepish apology as if his entire presence stains my entire house. I sit beside him, rubbing his back up and down. “Stay?”

“… This is your house,” he mutters awkwardly.

“It is,” I rub his arm then. “… So stay?”

“Why?” he looks at me. “Even after everything I said…”

“Because it’s like one thirty in the morning,” I reply simply. “It can be dangerous out there.”

“I can take care of myself regarding that,” he replies gruffly.

“I know. I’ve seen you,” I stroke his arm. “But I want you to be safe.”

“… I… see,” he pauses.

“I’ll lend you blankets and you can load your clothes into the washing machine there,” not wanting to waste more time, I seize a chance. “I have that all-size free t-shirt from Green Peace I got for helping Nanna around the time we started befriending each other. If you can excuse the hideous printed motifs, though—because with a heavy heart, Sir Lion, our sizes just differ that much.”

“And I suppose we can take Coirpre to school again tomorrow,” he murmurs, smiling.

“If you want?” I smile softly.

“… I’ll just give my mother a call,” he nods then. “Can I use the washing machine now? That way this shirt will be ready to wear again tomorrow. Don’t worry, I can iron.”

My smile only grows wider and warmer. “Of course,” I nod. “But mind the noise.”

“Sure,” he gets up from the sofa. “… Lene?”

“Hnnn?”

“Actually, I—“ he lingers closer.

“Ssh,” this time it’s my turn silencing him by pressing my index finger on his lips. “No need to thank me.”

And this time it’s his turn to playfully grab my finger that he gently makes a half rotation with his palm to weave-trap me with his movement. “Osae-uke.”

“You need to tell me more about those things,” I reply softly, landing a playful chop against his palm.

“… Now that I’m no longer half-dead, maybe I can,” he smiles back. “Exclusively to a rabbit, though.”

“… Rabbits?”

“ _Rabbit_ ,” he smirks. “Alright if you said so. I was about to say something else, though—“

“Hnnn? Aaah, tell me then!”

“You said no need.”

“Meanie…” I stick my tongue at him. He stops chuckling, and I stop frolicking around as well because we can hear noises—and an opened room. “That has to be…”

“Coirpre?” he gets up as well.

I run to the door, finding Coirpre’s little body crawling on the floor as the door croaks. “Sis?”

“Yes, Coirpre?” I rush to him. “Why, stay in bed?”

“Bad dream,” he mumbles. “And who is that?”

“It’s Ares,” I respond with a neutral tone. “And sssh—everything will be alright.”

“I’ll help you,” I can hear Ares’ firm voice beside me. He picks up Coirpre, resetting my little brother on the bed and draws the blanket. “Well, junior rabbit?”

“Bad dream. They wanted to take Lene away from me.”

“I won’t let it.”

“We tend to have bad dreams when we’re unwell like that, Coirpre,” I stroke his hair. “Sleep tight.”

“… Will I be riding with you again tomorrow, Coach N?” he whispers.

“If that’s what you want?” Ares pats his head. “But to wake up on time, you should sleep.”

“Are you staying?” Coirpre chirps sleepily. “It’s like nearly two in the morning."

I glance at Ares.

“… Yes,” he responds.

I tilt my head, concealing my smile.

“… In Lene’s room?” Coirpre inquires again.

“Sleep,” I command, wishing Ares didn’t hear that.

But Ares simply chuckles. “No. The sofa.”

“Oh,” Coirpre mutters. “No fun.”

After demolishing Coirpre’s antics and banishing him to the dream land, I take out the blanket for Ares while he strips down to his sleeveless undershirt, loading his shirt of the day into the washing machine. H-haha, well, good that he’s not completely bare-chested b-because, t-the view is—

I let out a soft yawn, setting everything I suppose he’ll need on the sofa. He returns, his muscles glisten under the light and his sleeveless thin undershirt reveals a curious birth mark. He settles on the sofa, and I put the blanket on him out of reflex like I usually do to Coirpre. But at the same time he also wanted to take it from me, so with him tugging on it kind of drags me to face him.

… S-so close—I mean… our—f-faces…

Nobody breaks away from one another for—I don’t know, it’s like time doesn’t exist.

… It’s until I yawn again, however, and he has that kind of endearing gentle chuckles as I turn away, feeling so dead embarrassed for being ~ungraceful~ like that. Hnnnh!

“S-sorry, I guess.”

“It’s alright,” he chuckles. “It really is.”

“Sleep well, then,” I nod.

“… Lene?”

I turn around.

“From the bottom of my heart, thank you very much.”

“Alleged human indeed,” I roll my eyes, but my smile blossoms. “Not necessary! What did I say—“

“Necessary.”

Just then he catches my hand gently, bringing it onto his face. He’s got that leonine smirk on him, and before I can do anything else, he softly presses his lips against my knuckles, his fingers brush mine as he bows in a deferred manner.

… H-he kissed my hand?! AAAA—

“Ares!”

He yawns. And that audacious handsome face has the audacity to be so handsomely at peace as he falls into slumber.


	12. Fortitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I'm sorry this takes longer (both by update time and length!) than I predicted. I want to give a solid start (I hope) like how Ares starts to bond with Lene's friends too because here we'll touch Ares' path to recovery, including his relationship with Seliph. Now that Lene drained the waste in the previous chapter, we can have more time for these dorks to start... feeling ;))
> 
> The Conote Restaurant part is inspired from FE5's plot. Should be obvious, but eh, just in case.

The first thing I hear in the morning is a knocking.

Grunting softly, I search for my phone around the bed. Who woke me up again… hnnn, I only got to sleep at around two in the morning, you know…

Alright, that sudden realization alone is enough to make me jolt! Two in the morning! That only takes my mind to the night prior, and only then I realized I—aaah, how can I forget that I have Ares staying for the night? N-nooo! His day starts early, he said. If I woke up later compared to him, would that make me a bad host? Ah, right—after all, everyone needs to eat. Coirpre needs to be taken care of, and sure he needs more time to get ready considering his legs are still exhausted.

I hope Ares won’t think of me as lazy! I-It’s not that I want to appear dainty or anything, but there’s this thing people easily do when they perceive a person to be less productive compared to the efforts they make everyday. And apparently, there’s this biased idea too; when girls get up late, suddenly they appear lazier and somehow it makes them the worst. Why is it that diligence having to do with gender again? Are girls more dedicated, or is it simply because girls are conditioned to double their efforts while keeping silent about their pain and that people tolerate boys and their mishaps more?

… Hnnn, what a discourse to brew in one’s mind this early. But the good part, I guess—I’m awake!

I kind of dread of having Ares seen me in such… condition, somehow.

I mean—I don’t hate my bare face. After all, cosmetics are just tools, and we’re not supposed to feel so burdened or being made to feel that way for not using them. I don’t care what people think of me, but it’s just… what I don’t feel like dealing with is that subtle disappointment in one’s eyes as if he’s being _cheated on_ just because he sees my bare face.

I don’t mean to think badly of Ares like this, but then again, I don’t know many… _decent_ men.

Hold on—Ares is decent, though. I doubt he’s going to knock on my door like that!

Then it has to be Coirpre? Oh, no, is he forcing himself to move again? The show must go on, so I press my face against my pillow, hoping to at least getting rid of traces of sleepiness around it. Yawning for the last time in the morning, I lazily open the door, the boxers I wore to bed being so obnoxiously flashy in its shocking orange and black print which says _I Kick Ass._ W-well, I like the print, and my t-shirt is white with a cute fluffy teddy bear on it. I can multitask being cute and deadly at the same time, you know?!

… Hnnn, perhaps the real MVP here is Ares. He’s a cub anyway, and he’s also deadly…

“Morning, Sis!” Coirpre stands before me as I expected. “I wanted to wake you up earlier, but Coach N said you could use more rest.”

“Ares said that?” my response probably sounds rather… eh, jittery, because what Coirpre told me kind of knocked me out in the feels. Damn, I’m not ready to be ambushed this early in the morning. He probably feels like he’s burdening us for being the unlikely guest we did not expect or anticipate, or…

… Ah, right. Last night was heavy, too. I got cornered by some eight street assholes where one of them actually laid a finger on me. Still, shouldn’t compare to… his… pain, isn’t it? After all, he was the one getting chewed by the entire block for even showing up his face and turning down all the glory they thought they had been offering so generously to him. Not only that, h-he defeated eight people in like, short amount of time! And he was the one with emotional catastrophe, shouldn’t _he_ be… exhausted?!

… And one more thing!

“Coirpre—oooh, gods, you CAN stand up!” I gasp, quickly enveloping him into a bear hug. My little brother takes turn gasping in my tight, tight embrace, but I’m so happy and glad that I’m sure I can easily burst out crying if Coirpre isn’t trying to tell me that I’m slowly choking him.

“S-sisss,” he says with muffled voice.

“Ah—yes, yes, I’m sorry, sunshine…” I murmur, my hands traveling to his mane to gently rub it. “You woke up feeling better and your legs started to obey you again?”

“Yes and no!” Coirpre slowly bounces around me. “Coach N massaged them shortly after he woke up.”

“Oh…” I cup my mouth instantly. Right, Ares is staying. And he probably caught Coirpre again trying to get a drink or something in the morning. “I’m sorry I woke up late,” I say then. “If Ares took care of you again before I woke up, then… let me thank him. Where is he~?”

“You better not look for him now, Sis,” Coirpre replies. “After all, Coach N is…”

Huh? D-don’t tell me...

“He’s gone?!” it’s like there’s this instant alert mode whose button being switched on inside of me. That can’t be, right? Alright, Ares may start his day early, but to think that he’ll just disappear on purpose before I woke up is... kind of sad. How many times do I need to tell him that when I offer, that truly means it’s alright and he can just take it? And I don’t even know if he’s truly alright after encountering a group of people he wished he wouldn’t last night! Really now, Ares—not even going to wait for breakfast? He just massaged Coirpre and... left?

“S-sis!” Coirpre desperately tries to race me, but of course, even if he can stand up he’s still no match for me. First thing first, you have no idea how _enthusiastic_ I can be once I’m determined to do something. Second, a Coirpre is still Coipre with the now (semi) bad-legs.

“Who does he think he is... Batman?” I huff, driving my heels to the sofa. My friends used to tell me that each time they have a sleepover with male friends it’s like one’s true color is gloriously revealed before them—apparently how lazy those guys can be, like waking up when the sun is close to be on top of your head and making little efforts to like, tidying up the space as if they’re purposefully waiting for another person to wake up and offer breakfast instead of taking the initiative first.

... And I can’t believe I’m slightly irritated exactly when Ares behaves oppositely! The good part is, I can boast about him to my friends because… hahaha, you people scream over the Black Knight discourse while he behaves like a princely knight in my house!

… P-princely… knight, huh?

W-well! Okay—he saved me again last night. Still keeping his honor and everything like… never asking me for—a payment—if you know what I mean. And then he thanked me s-so courteously just because… what, I offered him a place to sleep? Because I offered him tea?

… I guess I really need to uncover what species and how old he _actually_ is!

If he’s left, then…

No, I’m not going to call him!!

… W-why am I so thrown in between like this? It’ just a call, alright?! I called Larcei, Lana, and Fee anytime I needed to discuss something. Anything better discussed in-person rather than typing them all over Instagram’s direct messages. I had no problem bombing Iuchar’s ears when I needed to ask whether he’d want to be Macbeth or not in the stage performance class I happened to attend with him.

“I really can’t believe it!” sighing, I see that the sofa where he slept is empty. Not only that, the blankets I lent him are neatly folded too! W-wew, was Ares used to spending his time in some kind of summer dojo camp or something? And there aren’t any traces of his clothes around.

… Just so we clear, I’M NOT SAYING THIS TO HOPE CATCHING A SIGHT OF THEM AROUND!!

H-hnnn, why, this is too early to feel so embarrassed…

You know what, yes, I’ll just call Ares! If anything, don’t I as the host deserve at least an explanation or a message that he left early? Doesn’t he know that I’m worried about him? He does, right? H-he does…

… Oh, gods—if anything, receiving a sealed letter on the table from a left-early Ares would even make him appear even more… classic. It’s like The Sound of Music’s Maria who left a goodbye letter while the Captain was having a banquet, totally unaware that she slipped away while he danced!

I’m not a coward. N-not a coward! I’m not a cow demon because there’s… cow… in coward, right? No?

S-sigh.

I return to my room in a flash, grabbing my phone with me. With my hand on my hip, I tap Ares’ number while Coirpre clutches on everything he can to get to me. “S-sis! Sis, wait! Wait!”

“No!” I shake my head, irritated. “The very least he could do is leaving a message. And I sure don’t like the idea of people being able to come and go as they please without me knowing.”

I—dial his number. T-this is the first time, huh? Even in the brink of danger I was hesitating a lot! S-so I need only anger to act? Or… or w-worrying about… h-him?

AAAA—

I can hear something faint from around the sofa. Huh? Music? But I don’t have a music player, I mainly use my phone for everything because having everything in one device cuts off the budget.

 _I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war_  
_I wanna good steed under me like my forefathers before_  
_I wanna good mount when the bugle sounds and I hear the cannons' roar_  
_I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war_

This is… c-country music? Where is it coming from? I know it’s not my music because I don’t listen to this kind of music. I’m not fantasizing being a cavalryman or something similar, you know?

 _Let 'em play their flutes and stirrup my boots and place them back to front_  
_For I won't be back on the rider-less black and I'm finished in my hunt_  
_I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war_  
_I wanna be in the cavalry, but I won't ride home no more_

Now everything is clearer as the volume gradually increases. This is clearly not my music. Glancing at Coirpre who is approaching closer from my side, he shakes his head. Ah, so he doesn’t listen to this kind of music either. I thought he would, because apparently he’s a big man now?

I glance around, finding a handsome Samsung Galaxy S8-Active covered in black casing diving at the corner of the sofa. Hold on—that totally isn’t my phone. My Rose is a cute rose-gold Oppo A77, not something rugged like this hardy Samsung which loyal fanbase is made up of mountain climbers. S-so…

I take that phone, saving it from the misery of getting stuck at the corner of the sofa. The screen is flashing because I haven’t hung up yet, so I can see what’s there…

_Miss Rabbit_

That reduces the culprit to one man—ahem, _alleged lion demon_ then. First, the phone type. Second, black casing over the already black phone. And that nickname!

Embarrassed, I quickly end the call. W-well, speaking of which, i-it’s not like I named him _Sir Lion_ in my phone because _Alleged Lion Demon_ is too long or anything. A-and lately he’s been so nice to me—ahem, _us_ —like this, s-so the least I can do is at least being polite to him… r-right?

“Ares’… phone?” I set that little muscular-steroid-whatever communication device on the coffee table before the sofa, with Coirpre nodding enthusiastically beside me. Helping him to seat himself on the sofa, I look at him. “So Ares hasn’t… left?”

“Right, Sis! Gods, that’s what I wanted to tell you!” he chirps, looking so relieved that he gets to sit.

“Hnnn. I guess I’ll just take a quick shower so we can eat…” admitting defeat I absent-mindedly turn around, grabbing the towel from a hanger near the washing machine and head to the bathroom.

But right when I was about to do that, the bathroom door creaks. The handle sways a little bit, and it’s too late for either of us to react wisely—the moment the door is open, I’m treated to a literal, literal shirtless Ares towering over me! He’s still rinsing his face dry with the undershirt he wore to bed last night; his golden mane is damp yet fresh by the virtue of morning shower. B-but—

Ooooh my—GOOOOOD!!

I—mean! H-he… j-just…

HE IS SHIRTLESS! IN FRONT OF ME!!

… He literally is. Very, very, very much so shirtless and this isn’t a drill or a Photoshopped image possibly done in the clever hands of Larcei and her grade-A visual design-major creativity. This is Ares. Actually-Ares. Literal-Ares. Living, breathing Ares in flesh and blood coming out of the bathroom…

Living, breathing Ares in semi-naked flesh and blood coming out of the bathroom, I mean!! He is totally shirtless, no-string-attached-shirtless and if anything, at least he’s got some sense to take his shorts inside. And I think I’m too stunned to react, with my brain going into comatose for some solid five minutes because I can only— _stare_ at him.

Like—first thing first, he _does_ have well-toned strong abs and sturdy shoulders. Hnnngh, okay, alright, darn it—perhaps spending his whole life doing karate does that to him. W-what’s the big deal here?! I _can_ see those little ripples of glistening water—shower-remnants, perhaps—casually running over his chest like a speeding asshole driver who thinks they have the entire road for themselves. As decent as he thought he was being, those shorts—or rather, should I say, _boxer-short_ shorts frames his hips and upper thighs nicely, like the kind of how male MMA fighters or bodybuilders look like as they strip to have their weight measured before a fight.

… B-but Ares is not… a bodybuilder like… the kind of guy with _obnoxiously_ muscular build. He’s just…

… Right?

Proportionally-right?

Well-built right?

… N-nicely… right?

“Sis?” Coirpre tugs on my t-shirt. “Ah, Coach N, done already?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs from behind that thin undershirt he uses as a towel. “I thought I heard my phone.”

“Oh, that’s…” Coirpre glances awkwardly at the phone—HIS PHONE—which I moved to the table.

“Hmmm?” he makes that typical humming sound, his voice being deep and rich as he casually concludes wiping his wet face with his undershirt. Slinging it above his shoulders, he’s still unaware that I’m literally standing like two meters before him because he already takes his glances somewhere else—this time to the blessed washing machine who watches everything in silence.

(Of course it _has_ to be silent. I’d have RUN if it talked!)

“Can you please tell your sister when she wakes up that I’m borrowing the iron, Coirpre?” he asks then. “Washed my pants and shirt last night. I hope they’re ready for me to wear again this morning.”

His voice instantly dies when he turns around to find Coirpre.

I’m standing before him, completely stunned and silent like the beautiful _dumbfuck_ of a toothless rabbit I am, as his eyes slowly _bulge_ open when he finally realizes I’ve been standing there like no other. It’s almost like that old animation process—his eyelids opening wider step by step, with me suddenly feeling so, so, _fatally_ shy like I just got hit by a meteor in the ass while being bazooka’d from the front!!

“… Lene?” he gasps, as shocked as I am. His face is redder than lobster-red-RED and he quickly slams that damned undershirt over his chest! “I’m terribly sorry. I took the bathroom earlier after washing and drying my undergarments exactly because I didn’t want to wait on you bathing or accidentally walking into you—Coirpre said you were asleep and…”

“S-stop talking,” I bring my hands over my face. “Aaaaah, Ares, why didn’t I know you’re that nice?!”

“… Nice? I—don’t understand. But I mean, I just wanted to steal a quick bath before you woke up. I’ve never staid in a girl’s house before, so I was thinking—“

“You’re shirtless!”

“… Yes? I took a bath?”

“Magnificently so!!”

“What do you mean?”

“… D-don’t say anything!! One word, I bludgeon you!”

“…”

“D-don’t look at me with those sharp leonine eyes of yours either!”

“Hmmm?”

“S-shit, don’t make that sound—y-you’re supposed to be a lion, not an incubus—“

“… Incubus?”

“Or is it what your species actually is?! Ah, I see! Now everything is clear, Ares!! So that’s what you are, hnnn? No wonder then, y-you kept denying when I called you ice vampire. Incubus it is then—“

“… I’m lost but…”

“Right?! Then explain—how come you look so nice like that?! I mean—alright, karate. But no dojo makes students eat pheromone or something, right? Um—and your legs are bare too. I mean, sure, _almost_ bare. Again, do you really have that MANY of black attire?! Even your undies are black!! A-and…”

“… Is this about me being alleged human or… my underwear?”

“How dare you mentioning your UNDERWEAR!! I… AAAAH, I’m being murdered!!”

I can’t believe it!! What in the world of speech comprehension?! And of course like a sensible incubus he is, Ares is still standing there, looking absolutely gobsmacked-flummoxed-dumbfounded like he’s weighing in what to do. “I…” confused, he makes a careful move to approach me.

“Aaah n-nooo!”

“I, uh…”

“Hnnn!”

“… I’m coming back inside so you can…”

“N-nooo! I mean, do come out! I-it’s j-just…” I really am _dying_ here, while Coirpre has the gall to suppress his laughter like the good little brother he is! AAAA—

I—need t-to take control. C-control. Y-yeah, control!

“… Y-your phone,” red-faced-RED I stroll to the sofa, picking up the phone I set on our table.

“Oh, thanks…” he mumbles, looking even more awkward now.

“I-it’s the rugged type, isn’t it,” chuckling, I scratch my head.

“Yeah, I’m an outdoorsy person so I need something terrain-resistant,” he answers, still confused but following me by keep replying. “I get forgetful at times, like leaving the phone in my pocket even though I’m drilling my kicks or doing kata. So…”

“L-like mawashi-geri?”

“Eh, that and others, yeah.”

“Others—like?”

“The Tekki Sandan kata I posted on Instagram, for example.”

“… Tacky sandals?”

“Tekki Sandan—the iron horse kata, rabbit. So like, you start with this position—“

“P-please don’t spread your legs.”

“Then how should I…”

“S-shouldn’t!!”

“… Alright?”

“I mean—I mean, yes, workout and practice if you want, b-but…” I bite my lips, feeling dumber than a rock because Ares seems to wait for a command, like—he’s waiting whether I’m going to order him jumping into a cliff, or executing him myself by brutalizing his mullet! T-the worst part is I can’t decide, b-because—hnnn, even if it’s your war prisoner, executing a good-looking one is rather hard, right?

… W-what am I thinking. T-this is disgusting! I’m disgusting! W-waaah!!

“… But?” Ares repeats in a careful manner.

“Look, Ares, a parfait!”

“… Parfait?”

“Your phobia?”

“What…” Ares, now more confused than a tortoise, glances somewhere else. I take my chance—running like a cartoon coyote, retiring to the safe space that is my room! Hnnngh!!

Screaming into my pillow, I roll over my bed. Why am I so flustered like this? I get it, I get it that lion demons are blessed with youth despite being centuries-old. I get it—he’s got a _beautiful_ body, perhaps. B-but like… like—for example, Lester, who is actually not bad, can strip all he wants and I probably don’t care. I said probably, because like—nobody would want to see another person naked uninvited, sigh. And Larcei’s hot cousin—ahem, Shannan, isn’t it—I won’t even think of it despite my random teasing like I did with Seliph.

… Then there has to be something about Ares! W-where’s my phone again… huh?

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Quick question do they look like human food_

 **_gaebolg @anblacknight_ ** _You woke up early, what are they, rice balls?_

 **_anblacknight @gaebolg_ ** _Yeah. I want them ready before she wakes up. Owe her much already._

 **_gaebolg_ ** _…….. She? **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Of course it’s Lene **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_gaebolg @anblacknight @dancedancerebellion_ ** _IS SLEEPING AND YOU MAKE BREAKFAST???_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _These hardly even compare to her food but last night was rough, so **@gaebolg**_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _… Rough? **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight @gaebolg_ ** _She got manhandled so I want her to rest well. Must be exhausting._

 **_gaebolg @anblacknight_ ** _ARES OHMYFUCK DUDE_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _BRO ………………………………_

 **_lightprincess @anblacknight_ ** _ARES DEAREST OH LORD GOD_

 **_heyimnotaplant @anblacknight_ ** _…….. ARES MY DUDE… IT’S STILL TOO EARLY FOR THE DARK WEB…_

 **_anblacknight @heyimnotaplant_ ** _What?_

Oh—God. W-what? So this is why my notification is suddenly full of… m-many things?? And hold on, breakfast rice balls?

I quickly raid my closet for the clothes I want to wear today. I’m not risking another… incubus encounter!

Waiting until around five minutes for the alleged demon to settle somewhere, I slowly open my door, glancing left and right. Oh, good, there’s no sign of Ares around. Perhaps he’s ironing his clothes? T-then I should stay away from the washing machine. Bathroom, bathroom…

Yeeees, made it! Aaaa—

S-see, oooh gods, my phone keeps flashing!

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Girl_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _GIRL_

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _… Girl…_

FUUUU—

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _IT’S NOT LIKE THAT, I ASSURE YOU, WHOM DO YOU TRUST—ME, OR ARES OMG_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Ares this time_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Yeah, Ares_

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _… Ares ^^;_

WHAT. THE.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _WHYYYY D: HE DOESN’T EVEN TALK HUMAN!!!_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Exactly_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
He can’t lie even if he wants_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
He can’t lie in Human_

NOOOO—

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _So something indeed happened but somehow I’m not sure if I could tell you guys this. I mean…_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _…._

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Ares was so GREAT that you can barely walk you mean?_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _… Thank you for the translation, my courageous friend._

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
M-must you? Must you? A-aaah Seliph!!_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
… Seliph?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
S E L I P H ???_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Seliph?_

 ** _nunsfighttoo_**  
_S-sorry I just g-gasped_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_SORRY LANA BUT NO SORRY SELIPH WHAT?_

 ** _larceiheyhey_**  
_Lana_

 ** _pheeew_**  
_LANA_

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _N-no, Seliph just texted me that’s all! ^^ He has plans with Arthur and asked if I wanted to come. Not sure when, didn’t even specify... probably even taking Iuchar with them._

 ** _larceiheyhey_  
** _Iuchar too?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
ARTHUR? WHERE TO? WHEN? OMG. NO. TELL._

 ** _nunsfighttoo_**  
_Ahaaaa, Fee? ^^_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Heeeeheee my dear girls are in love hnnn *pokes pokes pokes*_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
… You know stealth attack won’t work on me, right, Lene?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
RIGHT WE’RE NOT DONE WITH YOU YET SO WHEREFORE IS HE_

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _P-please keep it less graphic as possible Lester’s nearby I don’t want to get big bro’d._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
THERE’S NOTHING GRAPHIC BECAUSE NOTHING HAPPENED!! IF ANYTHING HE WASHES AND IRONS HIS OWN CLOTHES AND HE DOES KARATE FOR ALL HIS LIFE THAT IT’S SPELT CRYSTAL-CLEAR ON HIS ABS!!_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _He what?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
NO—HIS WHAT??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
AAAAA_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
You sound so distracted :O_

To be fair, t-that’s an understatement... sigh.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _... So I got assaulted at the Yied..._

I fiddle with my phone. It’s not that I want to play secret with my own best friends, but to do so I’ll need to tell them Ares’ story as well. Should I? Will it even be wise? I don’t think he’ll mind if at all, but somehow a part of me kind of… wishes I keep that for myself. … For us. Between me and Ares only. I’m not even sure if he ever tells that to someone else. Perhaps Seliph knows the story considering his father is in the picture. Perhaps Altena knows because Seliph is her cousin. Perhaps Diarmuid knows because… well, they’re family and he’s literally the son of Ares’ aunt. But the others…

Ares should have known that I’m really close with the girls. Shouldn’t be surprised that we support each other a lot, and at this rate there isn’t really secret kept between us, considering how solid our friendship is.

… But he’s still an outsider in the sense that he’s not a part of our group. I’m not even as close to Nanna as much as I am with… say, Larcei, for example, but even if I am—considering it’s mostly schedule and Nanna’s activities which make us rarely even meet or that she’s got Leif as a boyfriend to date, too—doesn’t automatically give Ares the pass to be with the gang.

I want him to feel included, though. Not like, suddenly I’m taking him into the gang as a plus one because we’ve been getting closer lately, but of course it will be nice if he likes the girls as much as they accept him. After all, if the girls in your group don’t really like your guy, usually it’s a red flag.

… Y-your guy, I said? Ares is not even my…

… Ah, right, he’s not. Why isn’t he—

N-now hold on! Hnnn, there am I, thinking of weird things again. The show must go on, so let’s get ready!

I look left and right. Ares and Coirpre are really not around, so speeding off in a camisole undershirt I retreat to my room, getting ready for the day. It’s refreshing, to see my face back to the typical look I wear instead of the carefully-planned look I wore for the night club, with Bramsel in the picture. Ewww.

Listen, I do like that blood-red lipstick. What I don’t like is the circumstance which made me consider wearing it—or the people involved! Hnnn.

I quickly lace myself up in a cute short-sleeved tunic-like shirt with cute wavy pattern over my short jeans. This reminds me of the ocean somehow, ah, right, can I take the girls to the ocean with me to relax before summer is over? I feel like lately I’ve been living so under pressure with money, school, and Coirpre-related emotional roller-coaster I’m dealing with. Maybe if I work harder I can save some, so…

Hnnn. I’m not brooding today, n-no!

Tightening my ponytail with the lacy pink ribbon I love, I get out of the room, checking the pantry to see if I can stuff some bread loaves and sausages to grill again for a quick breakfast. Ah, right, Ares likes them too! S-so…

… T-this is weird—why is the idea of cooking something he likes m-makes me feel… enthusiastic?

Huh, there are a couple of rice balls neatly set on a plate, just like what Ares said on Instagram! The triangle-shaped rice balls look exactly like what I often encounter in cartoons, looking so cute with some of the stuffing peeking out. H-he really made these?

Taking one, I move to locate both Ares and Coirpre. Are they truly waiting for me to eat? H-how sweet. I feel pampered somehow…

I bite into the rice ball. Surprisingly it’s not spicy-SPICY the way Ares tends to like his food; it’s just right! Despite the size, this one is actually filling because of how densely-packed the rice is. Suddenly I picture him cooking rice, taking a full scoop to roll between his hands—strong, strong, formidable hands, because this is so neat and tightly-rolled that the outside look is deceiving. Hnnn, Ares put some shredded grilled tuna inside? R-right, this has to be tuna…

… T-this actually t-tastes so good! W-waaaah!!

“Again.”

Huh?

I sail the floor. Coirpre and Ares are at the balcony, and either by the virtue of my luck or the curse of my misfortune, Ares is still shirtless, only that now he dons his tactical grayish-green pants he wore last night. Judging from the hanger at the corner of the balcony, though, it seems he’s still drying his shirt, including the undergarments he also washed in the morning.

Ares holds a sofa cushion by his forearm, arching his back to match Coirpre’s height. Meanwhile Coirpre is clutching on the metal bar which secures the balcony, and…

Huh? He’s kicking the cushion Ares clutches.

“Waaah!” Coirpre whimpers when he misses.

“Steady, steady,” Ares gives a hand signal at him. “Try again. Hit this with the side of your foot.”

“Why?” Coirpre asks, holding onto the metal bar again.

“Sharper if it hits right,” Ares grins. He puts down the cushion, making a stance. His waist contracts and he turns around, darting a side-sweep kick which lands smoothly against the closest wild leaf from the balcony. The leaf falls onto the floor, torn into two like it’s just cut with a blade. “See? Now imagine if you can master a ball like this.”

“Impenetrable rear line defense!” Coirpre breathes. “And if used on the front…”

“Sharp corner kick,” Ares nods, approaching Coirpre. “Let’s stretch you again.” He takes Coirpre by the waist, tilting my little brother so they are facing each other eye-to-eye. “Try doing this, junior rabbit!”

I watch him rotate, lifting his dominant leg—but instead of the typical split-like stretching dancers like me do, it’s like he’s doing that in reverse. He sweeps his leg behind him, not on the front or to the side!

“Keep your upper body as straight as possible,” he explains as he does. “Back when I was a wee yellow belt we’d keep doing this to improve stable flexibility. I generate power from my abdomen, so…”

“So you have nice abs?”

“Ah, Sis?”

C-crap. CRAP—holy sssshhh—

Coirpre peeks at me, and Ares stops his drilling. Hooooo my FUUUU—!

“Hello, boys!” try keeping my voice as calm as possible, I wave my hand at them. “Morning exercise?”

I-it should work. If Ares is going to say something about this, I’ll just drive him mad by keep denying that I said _something._ I don’t care if he gets disoriented—p-please salvage my dignity! AAAA—

“… So I strengthen that area,” he nods, with a subtle leonine smirk on his face. “Morning, rabbit.”

“Hnnn~!” again, thanks to my brain, I do what a wise man of the ancient age would—lunging at him!

“Oops,” he chuckles, withdrawing his head effortlessly as his hands are kept by the waist.

“You made rice balls,” I gesture at the food I haven’t finished then. “Why, Ares, you shouldn’t…”

“I can thank people too, you know?” he replies huskily. “… Especially you.”

Damn this alleged lion demon, I don’t know why but somehow I get so tongue-tied when he did that! Sticking my tongue at Ares, I act like he’s invisible, turning my attention to Coirpre. “Let me see you.”

Coirpre releases his grip on Ares’ waist he perused as a pivot point, walking to approach me. Slowly but steady he reaches to me, looking so incredibly proud of himself. Little by little he releases his clutch over the balcony’s metal bar as well, like he’s determined to show me he’s much better now.

One. Two. Three…

“I can do other things,” he announces with such unmasked pride in his voice. “Look…”

“No!” I quickly reach out to him when he looks like he’s making a jump.

“No. Let him,” Ares stops me, gently tugging me from behind. And we watch curiously when Coirpre makes a springing motion, bouncing on his own heels—so much that Ares decides to take the cushion again. “Hit this, Coirpre.”

“Riiight!” Coirpre grins—the kind of boyish grin I’ve never thought he had. He wipes his nose, making a thumbs-up gesture at me. I don’t recall him to be this enthusiastic before—is it because he’s healing, or… the big bro factor?

Coirpre jumps, darting what looks like a hammer kick with a smirk.

“… Wow?” I look at him, and then at Ares.

“No. Don’t do that move without proper training,” Ares shakes his head with a stern _tsk tsk_ sound. “If you try things out freely like that, you can endanger yourself as well as others, junior rabbit.”

“I’ve been watching you though,” Coirpre pouts. “And you said it was called kakato-geri.”

“I’m sorry for the noises I made then,” Ares replies, the look in his eyes is still stern. “But still.”

“Nooo, you didn’t make any! I—I got curious s-so…” Coirpre fidgets. “Besides, you told me you wanted to move as smoothly as possible so you didn’t wake Lene up.”

… Hnnn, Ares is just…

“… You trained in the morning?” somehow my voice is rather soft when I find it back.

“My routine. I thought I could use some time before it got to be too warm again,” he scratches his head.

“That’s not what I wanted to say, you know,” chuckling, I glance outside. The sun is so warm, but the morning makes me feel so satisfied somehow. I wonder. I’ve never been this happy before. I mean—sure there were times when I was so, so happy, alright, like when I was informed that I got the scholarships. But this morning is just different, like I’m feeling so contended just the way it is. Somehow I sense that the three of us are in such a lazy mood, with Ares looking so relaxed and Coirpre seeming to get his confidence back. Everything will be alright this way, right? Everything will be…

The leaves from a nearby tree sway gently because of the morning breeze. I walk closer, touching what I can reach with Ares helping me to grab the branch. And somehow I have no complaint regarding our height difference… this sudden realization startles me too because usually I’ll tease him about that. He stands at around a hundred and eighty-two, versus me at a hundred and… f-fifty eight.

But somehow that doesn’t even matter now. And probably it doesn’t for him either, because he just… reflexively did that without making any teasing commentary whatsoever.

“Then what is?” he asks, somewhat-quietly like he’s contemplating something as well.

I shake my head. Didn’t plan to appear demure and tender, b-but here we go… “Before this you spoke of your art like you were ashamed of it,” I smile at him, pointing at his waist—not because of the physique, alright, as a metaphor for the belt! Hnnngh! “But now you train. You even train my brother.”

“Ah…”

“You really didn’t notice?” I giggle a little bit. “I’m actually glad, you know? Uhhh—I don’t mean anything, but it’s actually… nice to see you being so at peace like this? A happy Ares makes the best Ares~!”

“You think so?”

“Heheee. Why, Ares, you’re smiling…” I tick his nose.

“… I was just curious,” he darts a glance at the leaves. “I trained to fight yet you said I’m at peace…”

“Because it’s great to be able to perform without… shame, isn’t it?” I pat his arm. “I know you actually love karate. It pains me remembering how you used to restrain everything as if… as if you’re censoring yourself. Like somehow you have this idea that if it’s you, then you don’t deserve what others do…”

“Perhaps I indeed don’t,” he murmurs. “Coirpre—I understand you’re curious, but don’t do that move ever again without supervision. Clear?”

“Uuu,” Coirpre remarks sullenly. “For the sake of football…”

“If that, then okay.”

“Uuu,” my little brother repeats his response. “I want to grow strong like you to beat people up.”

“Then I made the right decision to refuse,” Ares glares at him, but his tone is actually… rather warm. Like he understands. Well, it may not be an understatement, after all—he was a boy once too, and prior to this quarter he had been so… angry. He must have related to that rawness and that’s why he doesn’t want Coirpre to follow his footprints? “I respect your sister’s wish to steer you from violence.”

“I’m joking, alright? I want to be strong exactly to protect my sister,” Coirpre keeps sulking.

“Coirpre,” he crouches now, nailing my little brother with his eyes. “The thing is to stop violence the way you wish—you’ll need to learn to be violent yourself,” he speaks in a softer tone this time, holding the leaf he doomed with his kick. “Learning to fight is learning to subdue another person as well as striking things. I don’t remember how many bricks I needed to break for my training.”

“But it’s necessary,” Coirpre tries to argue. “… Or do you think I can’t do it?” he fidgets again, looking on the floor. “Am I as useless as Lene thinks I am—frail and needing you to babysit me?”

I clap my hands hard before his face so he looks at me. “Do I have your attention now?”

Coirpre stops. And he averts his gaze again.

“Do not put words in my mouth,” I ruffle his hair softly. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“Remember that when you try guessing my mind,” Ares smirks at me, and my hand quickly flies to pinch him in the nose. “… Ouch…”

“I know I’m not an ideal brother you’d wish you had,” Coirpre murmurs again.

“First thing first, why are you comparing yourself with Ares again—he’s an alleged demon, alright, of a different species!” cheerfully, I point at Ares, who is rubbing his nose in a comical manner. “Second, come on, you’ll grow older. Sooner or later you’ll be taller than me. And you already helped me opening the jars I couldn’t lately!” I rub on his back. “The world needs more healing than striking, darling.”

“… Healing?”

“I can do this,” Ares softly points at the leaf. “But not other things like your sister can. Like you can.”

“Like what?” Coirpre turns his attention to Ares.

“Taking care of each other—without needing to destroy anything,” he sighs. “Coirpre, if anything, that’s the only thing I’m good at. Fighting. And I admire people who can thrive without needing a fist.”

Coirpre pauses. “… What if I ended up growing to be a manlet,” he seriously looks at me now! “Because—I’m sorry, Sis, but you’re of modest height!”

“Good God,” I roll my fists playfully around his temples, and he grins while beseeching me to absolve him. “Doesn’t matter! You know what matters? You’re my brother and still want to be my brother.”

“Hnnn,” he sighs. “I guess I can eat breakfast now.”

“Oh you should. Or this lion’s hard work will be wasted,” I pat him again. “You need to remember just one thing, and I hope I don’t need to repeat this—I love you and I’ve got your back. So I hope we reach a consensus that you don’t feel the need to run away from me again.”

“I…” he looks at me, looking resolved like he totally doesn’t expect it. “I—understand.”

He gulps?

Still, it seems everything is going well with him. I watch Coirpre looking sure of himself now—like there’s a hearth being lighted inside of him as he drags his feet back inside. This time he looks pretty satisfied like he’s reached the conclusion he thinks he needs.

Whatever it is, I hope everything will be alright…

“I wonder, Ares,” I shift my attention. “You could just tell me you’re a blackbelt and all that, you know? Like when I first asked on Instagram. I mean—many people practice martial arts and it’s not strange.”

“Ah,” he scratches his head sheepishly. “Not necessary. If anything, kind of makes me uncomfortable. Like I’m bragging it while… like you said, it’s not uncommon and I’m not proud of how I utilize it so far.”

… Oh?

“Now you’re laughing,” he points at me in an awkward manner.

“Hnnn? Because you’re sweet! So first thing first you didn’t feel like telling me because you thought it was unnecessary power projection? My, my, such a cute cub~! And let me correct you again, because between us here, I’m always right,” I wink at him, gesturing at the leaves. “If you’re nothing but a brutal beast—then these leaves would have… fallen, don’t you think?”

“Eh—“

“You said real strength preserves, riiight~?” I ruffle his mane this time. “You cut one leaf and that’s it. You saved me. Again and again. Maybe you’re…”

He waits.

“… An alleged cat angel instead of lion demon?”

He pauses. The corner of his mouth twitches—the typical expression he makes when he’s amused, which I’m accustomed to now. “I’m no angel,” he replies in a low tone. “Rather than that, I think…”

And just like that I stuff the rice ball into my mouth. “Andwh thish feews goodsh too.”

“Hey.”

“Busy, can’t talk,” I feign a pout, shaking my head while taking my steps back inside.

He stops me from opening the connecting glass door we have which separates the living room with the balcony. “If you’d let me have a word,” he folds his arms. “Stop praising me.”

“Stop thanking me,” I shoot him a fake death stare.

“Katame-waza.”

“You do that just so I accept you showering me with gratitude?” chuckling, I pat his hand, which is now playfully resting above my arm to grapple it. “Let me go or I suplex you again.”

“If I don’t?”

H-huh? H-he’s got that _raw, primal_ playful leonine smirk on his face? While shirtless?

“It’s time to settle this once and for all, Lene,” he grins at me. “You can’t keep taking the attacking position by hammering me with all these praises. I’d like you to listen what _I_ think as well.”

“Oh, so I’m now your opponent?” I smirk back, eyes glinting with equal mischief.

“Yes,” he nods, even more playful this time, bowing. “Please do me the honor by granting me a duel.”

Such an alleged human! “I see,” cracking my knuckles, I face him. “You’ll lose.”

“I can only humbly promise you a good fight,” he smiles back.

Hnnn, now this makes me wonder—perhaps I can get him to compete again? There’s no denying that he still cares. If the problem is just Seliph… but then again prior to this if he was one of the Jugdral-U’s aces in the men’s team, that should mean that he’s been tag-teaming with Leif and Seliph since the day those two joined forces to win the medals for our school. He ought to fight often, judging from that score board I not-so-accidentally found via Google.

Yet there was this clear warning when people offered him to think about it, and at this rate, even though I’m mostly the kind of I-say-whatever-I-want person, somehow I don’t feel like barging him more than what he already spilled out to me—the same way I don’t feel like retelling everything he told me to my girls. Doing karate—perhaps—if Seliph didn’t already tell Lana first… hey, they’re close!

But for other things, like his hard life and all that…

That aside—why is he persistent? Can it be that he gets carried away because he can finally speak of karate without having to hang his head in shame, without feeling like he… _failed_ karate?

“First rule in a fight—no spacing out,” he points at my nose, gently dissuading my hands from the door.

“Thank you for being so considerate by telling that!” I beam at him instead.

“… Now hold on just now.”

“No holding back!” I cheerfully hop behind him. “Again, thank you for saving me last night!”

“Uhh—“

“Hnnn~? Are you embarrassed? Such a cute cub,” I smirk at him, playfully twisting his wrist like I want to throw him onto the floor.

“Because it’s just basic decency,” he smiles, reversing my twist so he catches me instead. His left hand holds my wrist and he gently makes an upward blocking gesture with his right forearm. “Morote-uke.”

“Oh, you stopped?” I contemplate his entangling arm with mine, yanking his mullet.

“You wouldn’t be here if I went with it,” he pats my head.

“Like, on the ground?” I stick my tongue at him.

“Yes, five meters away at the corner out cold,” he chuckles a little bit. He looks worried when I pause. “… That sounds sadistic, doesn’t it?” he speaks carefully, like cussing himself for ruining a good time. “… Morote-uke is a powerful block. Either I catch you or dodge you, it’s still…” he positions his palm against his forearm, making a pushing notion as his abs contacts to generate power. “… Ruining midriffs.”

“Again, that’s not what I wanted to say,” I playfully slam his chest with my shoulder.

“Careful now,” he smiles faintly. “One bruise on you is more than enough bruise.”

“I forgot,” I run my finger insolently over his cheek. “Thank you for being the soft person you are.”

“… Soft?” he pauses. Aha, nice opening! I pull him in.

“Right! You’re so gentle,” chuckling, I put my hands on his hips, acting like I’m about to tackle him.

“Totally not,” he fortifies his stance, evading my tackle by swaying a little.

“But you are. Thank you for handling Coirpre with love and care,” I pat his ribs, making him follow where my eyes travel. Coirpre is back at the dining table—without our help, and munching the rice balls. “That should prove something, don’t you think?”

“Eh—which is?”

“Really have no idea? My, you’re dumb.”

“That’s a fact, though,” he musters a modest grin. “But yes—I have no idea.”

“These hands,” I point at them, “are capable of something much more than just destroying bricks.”

“Such as?”

“No spacing out, Nordion-Sensei!” grinning, I push him. “Thank you for having a healing touch!”

“… Ah.”

“W-wew, Ares! God,” I bring my hands onto my face because just like that, he loses his balance and tumbles, lying in a hapless spread-eagle position on the floor. “Are you alright?! Really… did I push you too strongly? Can’t be, right? Why didn’t you dodge? Don’t you have a collection of geris and wazas? O-or whatever they’re called. That must be hurt. Oh, dear gods. Uh—l-let me see…” at an instant I drop to sit beside him, lifting his head by touching him at the nape. “W-where? Here? Coirpre would so think I’m on a mission to assassinate you or something. Ares? W-would you say something… Ares?!”

He only stares at me—like dumbfounded. I-is he in a state of shock? Concussed? Nooo! Help!

“… Hey, Lene?”

Eh?

“Y-yes? Huh? Why are you…”

… He’s smiling. Slow but sure his face lights up, and the curve on his lips only gets widen because in a split second his lips part into… laughter. H-he’s laughing. He’s really laughing, but instead of loose or vivid like people tend to do when something is funny, his laughter is gentle that it’s almost like a tease.

… But WHAT is it that he’s laughing at??

“Are you sure you’re alright…” I look at him again, not sure where to check now.

“I’ve never felt this fine,” he chuckles.

“Maybe you’re a masochist,” grumbling, I act like I begrudge him. “I’ve never seen any other person landing flatly like that then be like… _loving it._ Is this what alleged demons do? Being masochistic?”

“I’m not a fan of torture, Miss.”

“Yeah, yeah, every masochist says that!”

“You sound so knowledgeable.”

“No,” I roll my fists against his temples. “I do this to Coirpre—I can do this to you too.”

“I see. Considering I was a wreck last night, then I guess this time I can take turn talking because you’ll be busy kneading me like that,” he says oh-so-casually. He really is alleged human! K-kneading? “Alright. Where should I begin…” he smirks, looking at me. “Right. Thank you for the magnificent dinner curry and amazing breakfast platter.”

… Hnnn? “H-hey, Ares—“

“Oh, I messed up. Should have started it like this—thank you for calling me by my name.”

W-what? “Ares, why is your voice tender?!”

“Is it?” h-he is still chuckling…

“Can’t be that you caught cold since you’re shirtless like that?” I look at him again, and this time I need to avert my gaze somewhere else b-because somehow the view m-makes me… shy.

“Thank you for being concerned of my well-being,” he points at my nose like he just found cold-hard evidence he could use to counterattack me. “And to answer your question—no, I’m alright.”

“Oh, okay…”

“And there, too. Thank you for being so sincere,” h-he keeps going…

“But you are also sincere, you know? Like you always help people no matter who they are. Be it the old lady from the minimarket. The kid who lacked money to buy ice cream. The cat you covered with your jacket that rainy day. You checked out the book for me and reviewed my paper with me. You never cut me when we talked. You don’t really like socializing with people yet you dropped everything to defend the girls I’m coaching. You don’t even share your number with just anyone you know and yet when the campus creeper…” I stop talking b-because—

Suddenly he picks himself up. There, again, like prior, I catch that raw leonine smirk on his face. Only that this time it’s more visible if not potent. “Again, rabbit?”

“You don’t have to begrudge me this much just because I’m thanking you, you know?” I pout at him. “And I’m not done yet! Where were we? Oh—right, that one. Also—ahhh, yes. You stood for my defense. Not like, kicking people out cold. But like, you wouldn’t sit idly when other guys insulted me. Wait—no, you don’t even insult women at all, and…”

“But why would I even insult women?” he chuckles. “Such a curious rabbit.”

“Rich, coming from a lion,” my hand flies to his nose at an instant. “Tell me what your species is.”

“It’s Homo Sapiens.”

“Liar, I’ll make you talk,” mustering an evil look, I retract that hand to tickle him red…

H-huh? He blocks my palm!

Right—he positions his own palm horizontally against mine. Twisting, in a spur second his hand seizes my wrist, and he keeps making a crescent rotation until my hand is completely locked at the mercy of his grip! “Some practitioners call this tekubi-waza.”

“Oh? And what do you call it?” I bring my other hand to take the revenge, but…

He locks that one too, this time with his elbow. Swiftly moving to switch his grip, he crosses my wrists, pinning them downwards. “I call it the Talking Lion time,” he flashes yet another raw smirk at me.

Hnnn?

W-why does he look… I don’t know, leonine-capitalized LEONINE like that?? Like raw and masculine—y-you know what I mean, right? L-like… h-he’s subduing me? Making me to be at his mercy?? Aaa—

“Oh, so you do this just because I called you a masochist,” I stick my tongue at him. “Hnnn, let me go, Ares, I need to tickle you until you bawl like a baby with red face.”

“So honest,” he _grins._ “Rabbit, my apologies—no escape this time.”

Eeeeh?

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re a cub.”

“A cub hunts too.”

“Alright, then let me have my hands again so I can bludgeon you out cold.”

“I told you it’s Talking Lion time,” h-his smirk only g-gets… r-rawer… and carnivorous—

With the little room I have my fingers travel to his ribs. “Then, Rabbit Revenge time!”

“Resistance is futile, Miss.”

H-he contracts his muscles to stiffen them! That way it’s like he’s barricading his body with his own muscle so nothing can poke his flesh! D-did I trigger the Lion in the lion? H-huh?

“You can’t escape,” he keeps smirking. Hate to admit, he’s right. He doesn’t hurt me at all there while taking a hold of me, but at the same time I can’t free my hands from his grip! W-what in the world of lionization?! “Now I can talk.”

“T-talk?”

“Right,” he nods, chuckling a little. “Thank you for your praise for my blueprint…”

“But it was a magnificent project, though.”

“Thank you for asking to secure a seat at Maera Hall.”

“But in turn you reserved a seat for me…”

“Thank you for sharing your food with me.”

“S-so you didn’t actually hate the spaghetti? A-and it wasn’t bad at all?” I gasp.

“Thank you for introducing me to the ambrosia that is mango.”

“Mangoes don’t grow in Olympus?” I giggle.

“No. My literal godfather Zeus is an asshole who favors Dionysus’ grapes.”

“My condolences, o Stratios,” I reply solemnly.

“Thank you, human. Now back to war of saying gratitude,” he nods like he’s a literal Ares taking tributes from a devotee. “Thank you for making me able to walk into Tirnanog again.”

… Oh…

“Thank you for ordering the cappuccino for me.”

“I figured frappuccino would be too sweet for you,” I reply innocently.

“And thank you for being mindful of my taste even though paying for the drink should make you entitled to some… privilege of getting me whatever you wish.”

“Ah, but Ares, it really is normal, you know? I mean—I wanted to treat you, so of course I’d rather find something you could enjoy?” W-wew he keeps going on…

“Thank you for making me able to face Chalphy normally again.”

“Ares, I assure you, that’s not—mmmh!” I gasp because suddenly his other hand silences me! W-wha—t?

“Talking Lion time, rabbit.”

S-so I should just listen and not commenting?

“Right, that will be convenient. Thank you,” h-he flashes that grin still…

“I didn’t even say anything!” I want to tell him, and I guess at this predicament widening my eyes should get my point across because I can’t speak.

“I can understand your thoughts,” h-he keeps chuckling… “And I assure you, I’m no masochist.”

Oh, so now he wants to sound dominantly sexy like that? H-hold on. What did I just think?

“And thank you because that time in Tirnanog was the tamest interaction I had with him.”

These little things truly matter for Ares?? Did he ever come close to literally punch Seliph and all that?

“Oh, but yes.”

I muffle a sigh and attempt to tickle him again.

“You can’t.”

Hnnngh. Ares, s-stop being s-so…

“Thank you for sincerely training Diarmuid…”

And I thought he’d want to kick his ass!

“I can multitask.”

“Hmmmh,” I chide him.

“All joke aside, I started getting worried that my cousins would be shunned because they’re related to me,” he confesses. “Diarmuid just got back from doing everything good abroad and he’d need time readjusting while Nanna deserves everything the world can offer—God forbid my name hinders them.”

Ah—right, that time when he said he wanted to shield his mother and family. So much of him that he’d rather keep people in the dark about him being a Nordion? Because he thinks he’s not supposed to be associated with everything that is good about his family, yet at the same time he’s maintaining their good name from a distance? That he actually loves his family very much?

“Thank you for letting me cry like a loser,” more and more his voice only gets to be… tender? It’s like he drops an octave each time he speaks, as if there’s something… something more he wants to convey but is still unsure of. It’s almost like if he peels his thoughts one by one like this, he’ll get to the bottom of this onion to be able to relay the most important message he wants me to know…

“But you’re not a loser.”

“Yes?” smiling a little, he takes his finger off my lips.

“But you’re not a loser…” I repeat, and he’s back, silencing me again.

“Why, do I have to literally take you as my prisoner like this so you can accept me thanking you?” he chuckles. “Thank you for your hospitality. Thank you for being so sincere with me.”

S-somehow I feel my face burning… i-it’s like he’s saying he owes his life and soul to me…

T-that can’t be, right? I didn’t rescue him from offenders…

“Thank you for everything you said about me and karate.”

“Mm-hmm,” I shake my head, signaling for him that I have something important to tell. “No big deal. It’s clearly spelt on your eyes that you love the art. Like I thought you were laughing at me because you replied my karate-related questions with smileys, but…”

“I will never laugh at you in such malicious manner. I just found those questions cu—innocent.”

“See? That’s why I’m so sure you actually LOVE karate. Besides, you unleashed your emotions on your training. You posted those workout reps as instructional videos for Diarmuid to use, like you anticipate he might run into a dead end getting rejected because of you. Protective much, older cousin?”

“And this is from the girl who fiercely protects her little brother?” he responds, grinning. Taking his hold off my wrists he picks himself up and gives me a hand so I can stand comfortably. “I’m sorry for doing that. You kept denying like your deeds were just… a whim of nothingness, so I thought if I didn’t tell you these things—one-by-one—you wouldn’t believe me. Let me tell you again—they’re not nothing.”

“Alright, I believe you’re not a masochist,” I pout again.

“Definitely not,” he smirks. “But I can _yield_.”

“Y-yield?” why, somehow everything feels tender and melancholic…

“In a fight, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose,” he replies lightly. “I don’t think I really stand a chance against the girl who bravely stood up to Javarro and Bramsel. And I thank you for that too.”

N-now I’m—blushing. “That’s odd coming from a champion who went undefeated fifty times—“

O—oh. N-noooo! I outted myself like that! N-noooo!

W-why, Ares quirks an eyebrow now, and I just want to die… again. “Uh—!”

“You Googled me.”

“I—I d-did.”

… Did I ruin everything again? Why? … Why must I?

It’s not like one can see Ares to be this vulnerable and honest just any other day, and I had to say it to him? At his face? Even after everything he told me—after what his tears spoke of, more than his words could ever?

… I feel so ashamed of myself somehow. I mean—I wasn’t even stalking him, but with the latest events, somehow I felt like I’ve done disservice to Ares’ openness to me. I mean, sure, entitlement is bad especially when you only take without giving, but…

 I—digress. I should just…

“Uh…” no coherent word escapes my throat. Really now, after all the heartfelt gratitude he told me? That should give me an idea that people were hardly ever nice to him so far. And even if he’s not really lacking interaction in a general manner… well, there’s his cousins and then Altena, at least—he truly was thanking me when he said those things!

Maybe I’m the cow demon because I wanted to FLEE now. I want to get back inside, and and and—

He reaches the door before I can. There’s no playful fight this time, I’m sure of it—because he frowns, and his hand is resting on the door. The glass door which connects the balcony to the apartment’s interior reveals a peaceful Coirpre heartily eating Ares’ rice balls.

He waves at me, pointing at the plate signaling I’ll miss those out if I don’t come in quickly. And I push Ares’ hand off the handle, finding that still he keeps himself there and not budging.

… P-perhaps he’s… angry? My, my, I’m not so kind anymore, huh...?

He stops my hand. What I truly didn’t expect is for him to open the door for me.

Turning around, I shoot him a questioning look, but he simply stretches his arm, making a simple gesture like telling me to come in. Did he just want to open the door for me out of some male ego, or…

His footsteps follow as I come inside.

“… I don’t…”

I turn around again. He stands at the threshold, towering over me as he grabs the clothes he’s drying.

“I usually don’t care. It’s not like people really want to be near me, anyway, but somehow, this time…” he shakes his head, with his hands in his pocket. “… Even if I don’t want to care, I do.”

“… Eh?”

“I probably never noticed this until I walked into Tirnanog again, who knows?” he shrugs, slipping into the shirt he just got back. I want to press for more, but Coirpre waves at me again.

“Sisss. What takes you so long?” Coirpre chirps from the table. “I almost killed all the rice balls.”

“Get ready then, Coirpre, while I grab a quick bite,” I tell him.

“… Were they edible?” suddenly Ares’ deep, low voice startles us.

“Yeah! The shredded tuna is nice too!” Coirpre gives a thumbs-up.

“Oh. Right. I found about five cans of those in your kitchen,” Ares scratches his head.

“My sister stocks and buys in bulk,” Coirpre replies in such innocent manner. “She says it’s cheaper. But sometimes I can’t help but feeling like people are judging our purchase as we stroll to pay.”

… W-well…

Ares glances at me. And suddenly his lips part into a consoling smile. “… Hey, junior rabbit?”

“Yeah? W-wha—?” Coirpre gasps because Ares kicks a cushion at him.

“Give me a scissor kick with that one.”

“S-scissor kick?”

“The soccer one, Coirpre, the side volley!”

Coirpre pouts. “I was so certain you wanted me to imitate a karate kick,” grumbling, he leans sideways, throwing his legs upward before creating a scissor-like motion by volleying the cushion forward with the kicking leg passing over the other leg.

“Nice,” Ares receives the cushion, conveniently hooking it with his instep to propel it upward. Catching the cushion and returns it back to the sofa, he musters a small smile. “I’m your soccer coach, not sensei.”

“Can’t you be both?” Coirpre speaks again, his tone is sour as his face sullen.

“No,” Ares replies firmly from the other side of the table. “Well, see you at the field, Coirpre.”

“I can play again?” my little brother beams at the lion. “For real?”

“Yeah?” this time Ares chuckles. “But the moment you force yourself, I take your ass out of it.”

“Aye, Coach N!” Coirpre breaths. “… You know, sometimes I don’t get you.”

“I don’t get me either sometimes, but what about?”

I shake my head softly, concealing a smile. I guess there’s no room for me there this time. Perhaps Coirpre needs to talk to another… eh, adult person. A reliable older male person. It seems there are simply things I just can’t do, and one of them is being Coirpre’s… older brother.

Maybe I should learn to let go. After all, he’s not going to be a little boy forever…

I return to my room, prepping my own things for today. Ah, right, I’m also going to coach the girls in the afternoon. If anything this should be the first time for the cheer team to take the field too, after weeks of separate training sessions. Now that Coirpre is feeling energetic, this should make the perfect opportunity to watch him in action. Perhaps it’s not bad to stroke his ego a little bit—after all he’s always been the nerd in the group, and if it can boost his confidence a bit that he’s actually no different than any other kid out there, why not? Besides, whether I openly admit it or not he does look healthier and livelier after joining a sports team. Well, a person can be so many things! Haha, I can’t wait to see people green with envy when Coirpre grows up so dashing and excels both at the field and the school!

“I just don’t get you, Coach N. You’re strong but it’s like you hate it, you know?”

… Hnnn. What if the one who succeeds training Ares to speak Human is… taraaa, Coirpre!

S-sigh. Still, I haven’t gotten a clear answer if Ares was actually angry at me or not. H-he could be, but he’s too polite to tell me that he actually was—thinking he’s indebted to me for staying the night?

“Hate it?”

“Yeah! It’s like you don’t want to be cool. I mean—y-you’re so cool, being so strong like that! But it’s like the more I point about it to you, the more you resent it!”

“I don’t. But you’re mistaken here, junior rabbit.”

My phone flashes. The most-recent Instagram direct messages are piling in my inbox!

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _Are you there, Lene, or… gosh, were you crying??_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Lene? For the love of God please, please just answer our texts_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Yeah!! You can’t just say you got attacked at Yied Ave and then went MIA D”:_

H-hnnn, r-right…

“How am I mistaken?” meanwhile I hear Coirpre raises his voice. “It’s like you hate karate. Is that why you kept refusing to teach me?”

Oh—God, no, Coirpre, don’t say that to him!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hiii I’m still here! Ares and I needed to look after Coirpre a bit, so…_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Heheeee you raise him together huh?_

… Now I _am_ the one feeling sour! Don’t you know that it’s the very thing I’ve always dreaded for—knowing that my little brother is stressed thinking of him as a burden, and potential romantic partners withdrawing themselves from me thinking they’d need to be responsible of Coirpre as well.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _No?! How dare you, after all these times, I—_

Why, I… I just lashed at Fee!

I race to the door. My bag flaps behind me because I’m dragging it. I can’t bear to see Ares in pain, especially when… when it really is on the contrary. He _loves_ karate, that one I’m sure of. His eyes lighted up each time snippets of karate resurfaced when joking with me, and there was always that subtle hint of… passion and felicity when I encountered him at the sports hall. Like he was so glad he could practice, safely, away from other people’s judgmental looks, putting all his heart into the techniques he drilled and relieved to find that he was still in prime condition even though he’s been out of any serious karate activities and matches for months. And despite the looming anger like the way he nearly, nearly _exploded_ at the Yied, his strikes were sharp and his techniques were precise, not just… blind rage.

“Coirpre…!” I want to call on my brother. If my Google confession already struck Ares, then…

Conveniently I land graciously against the floor for flying outside with my bag flapping like that! Argh! Both Ares and Coirpre stop speaking, exchanging glances at me—with Coirpre looking guilty, and Ares having his eyebrows dive like a pair of curling dragons.

“Lene—“ they both call on me.

“H-haha, it’s alright—“ chuckling nervously, I pat my own head. “Uh—I thought I forgot something, but…”

Ares sighs. And Coirpre shrinks, probably thinking he’s going to get scolded again.

“Finish the rice balls?” my poor attempt to defuse everything only makes everything… awkward. “You too, Ares? How come you made these but didn’t eat more of them?”

Slinging my bag over my head onto the sofa, I quickly retreat to my room when both my boys face the plate, also looking… awkward.

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Lene are you mad at me? D: Let me fix everything if I offended you! Lene?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I was sad because—because… not you, too…_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Not me what? Can we talk about it? Please?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I know you didn’t mean it that way but…_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Let’s talk about it. I want to apologize, for real now. Please, Lene…_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Let’s just… let’s just talk at school then. I guess…_

I pat my cheeks with both of my hands. I’m not going to let everything ruin my day, the way I resisted the urge to bury my face into the pillow because it’s ready and I don’t want to risk the stains—

—U-uhhh, not to sound cute or anything, b-but—aah, let a girl live!

And definitely, I won’t let the boys give each other a cold shoulder. I’ll apologize to Ares too. I must!

I open the door, and the boys jump on their toes when they see me out, like they’re actually worried to make me sad and whether I’m seriously aching because of that bump. “The rice balls?”

“Eaten in a second,” Ares mumbles, flying to the dining table as Coirpre tails him. My little brother awkwardly passes him the orange juice carton, looking like he’s ready to drown himself in the washbasin rather than directly looking into Ares’ eyes.

“Coirpre, Ares loves karate—very much,” I start, biting my lips in the process. I want Coirpre to mind his manners too, and technically speaking God knows whether Ares even fully recovered yet after last night!

“It’s alright,” he sighs again, touching my shoulder. “Coirpre, I didn’t train to be cool.”

“… No?” Coirpre mumbles after a pause, and Ares gives him a sharp look. But not like angry-sharp look. Like the kind of look men shoot at each other whenever they mean manly business. I guess. Sigh.

“If that’s the case, I wouldn’t be a...” Ares exhales—deeply, heavily, like even the word blackbelt or champion itself is a taboo for him. Gods, he’s hurting and I want to help…

I touch his arm, gently squeezing it. He pauses to look at me, and I spare a faint smile. “Coirpre, if you train just because you want to be cool, you won’t get through,” my voice is soft.

“How do you know? You can’t even fight,” Coirpre mutters.

“And you think you can?”

“C-Coach N.”

“You think being able to kick hard and subdue another makes you a martial artist?”

“Isn’t that the point?” Coirpre replies, confused.

“No,” Ares glares at him. “That makes one a fighter _for a season_ while it takes something else to forge one into a _seasoned_ fighter. Frankly, you won’t last long learning anything this way.”

“… Y-you want to kick my ass, it seems,” Coirpre whispers.

“Yes,” Ares replies firmly. “Because you disrespected your sister.”

“D-disrespect?”

“Let me break it down here, junior rabbit. You’re concerned that the purchase is ridiculous, while her concern was feeding you. If someone has to feel bad first, certainly it’s not you.”

“Eh…”

“And that thing about her not being able to fight,” he points at Coirpre’s nose. “I’m not a brewer, but I have beer I like and I don’t. There’s a reason why some people hate what I like and love what I don’t.”

“No beer,” trying to lighten up the situation, I gently yank his mullet.

“Alright—I don’t make ice cream, but I have flavors and brands I like…” he chuckles a little.

“You do?” I beam at him, instantly getting embarrassed b-because… _because._ Sigh.

“… I was like you too, Coirpre,” he continues, nailing Coirpre with his eyes. “And for around half a year, I have been angrier than angry. But sometimes it takes an outside perspective to see things differently.”

“… Outside perspective?”

“Like how sparring against a powerful judoka humbled me,” he responds. “And before you comment on that—said judoka is a she. Of course, so did watching cheerleading and dancing workout videos.”

This time I pinch his waist.

“And only after that you can be a…” he inhales.

I look at him again.

Suddenly he turns around to look at me back…

“… Blackbelt for real.”

O—oh, dear gods. He said it! He could say it at last! Aaa—

“Get ready for school,” I nudge Coirpre softly. “Otherwise you’ll be late.”

“R-right,” Coirpre slides out of the table. “I’m sorry…”

“I’ve forgiven you even before you asked,” I ruffle his hair. “Go now.”

“Hnnn,” he hums, dragging his legs to his own room, retrieving the backpack from the sofa.

… Well, I’m alone with Ares again then. He looks just as awkward, perhaps for prep-talking Coirpre again like that. Or is that—again, for blackbelt discourse? R-regardless…

“Um,” I nudge at him, not sure how to start. “I did Google you.”

“I know. I partook in those matches even before this semester started. And listen well—I’m not angry.”

“Fifty victories, really?”

He scratched his head. “Y-yeah. It seems.”

Hnnn? He stutters? Just because I figured he was a reigning champion? Such a cute cub! “I’m sorry…”

“No need. We better get ready too,” he replies flatly. “I told you I wouldn’t begrudge a lady for taking security measures. I was so vague about everything while both you and Coirpre, on the other hand…”

“And the draw for ten times?”

“… Chalphy,” he remarks sourly. “It’s always Seliph Baldos Chalphy.”

“In movies, we call that potential best friend,” chuckling, I divide the leftover rice balls evenly for us.

“Then I hate those movies,” he responds, his tone sullen.

“Really?” I keep poking him. “Perhaps Seliph and you are more alike than you anticipated.”

“… No.”

“Well, he certainly isn’t brooding,” I hold my ground even though he’s practically glaring now. “But I don’t know. Perhaps you need to talk to him more to see if that’s truly the case?”

He growls.

“Yaaay. Thanks!”

“I didn’t even say…”

“But you did, so thanks~!” I wink at him. He stands, stunned where he is. He opens his mouth to speak, and I’m still here, waiting… until he shakes his head that I thought he’d just going to argue about it.

“… I yield.”

* * *

 

Like before, we send Coirpre to school again today! Loading onto Mystletainn as a trio again, Ares still insists driving Coirpre even if his legs are healed because a mission is complete when it’s completed. Coirpre proudly hoists himself on and off Mystletainn like he truly wants to show us that he’s okay, just the way he’s going to be worthy of the field again later, and just the way Ares appears to be more at peace today, he also looks contended! Like he grew up much more while I was asleep, and there’s this potent confidence I nearly didn’t recognize from the way he carries himself.

“Hello, Ced!” he waves at the green-haired star student, who, again, is chatting up Tinny near the stairs. “I’m looking forward to play with you again today!”

“S-sure!” Ced responds, nearly taken aback because of how optimistic Coirpre appears to be, while Tinny just sweetly laughs as she waves at me. I relay my plan to train them in a room before taking them out to the field to mingle with the players as a part of field orientation, and she’s enthusiastic to hear about it.

“T-that means I can see you play up close, Ced!” she beams at the boy.

“And I can support you too,” Ced smiles. “We’re lucky.”

Coirpre pauses, looking rather sour. “I’ll do good once I’m at the field and be worthy of her cheering.”

That practically lands a head pat from Ares. “No murder between teammates.”

“Coach N.”

“That’s instant red card.”

“Hnnn. Alright, alright,” Coirpre sighs. “See you later.”

“Oookay, we ride, then!” I wave at Coirpre. “Be good at school! Byeeee~!”

“Ouchhh. Cut it out, I’m twelve, not five,” he pouts at me, his eyes linger on Tinny. Coirpre steers his legs to leave the corridor, but stops when a rumbling sound can be heard approaching the stairs. Suddenly he walks back to me, and his hand soon tugs on my blouse. “Can you… stay a bit longer, Sis?”

“Hnnn? What’s the matter?” I look at him. “Oh—your legs throb?”

“A bit,” he replies sheepishly. “I need to readjust.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s get you to your class,” mindlessly, I hold his hand and take him to walk while Ares follows out of the habit he grew by hanging out with me. Coirpre leads him to the class, and the noisy group of boys from prior passes by. They peek into the classroom while Coirpre almost tumbles on his chair, looking surprised to find me and Ares there.

Not long after, Ced and Tinny comes in. “I’m so glad you’ve recovered!” Tinny casually dumps herself onto the seat to Coirpre’s left while Ced gladly takes the one to his right, making them squeeze Coirpre in between. Somehow this makes me feel relieved—Coirpre is surrounded by friends, and judging how starry-eyed he got whenever Ced was in the picture, the sudden rivalry atmosphere he projected at the corridor got to be healthy.

… Aha, can it be that both Ced and him are vying for Tinny’s attention? Awhhh, he’s growing up~!

“Y-yeah, I got it pretty badly…” Coirpre chuckles awkwardly. Stupid boys and their male ego—not wanting to sound incapacitated in front of the girl, huh? Just like some alleged lion demon I know!

… The girl? W-who…

We leave Coirpre in the caring presence of Ced and Tinny because we also need to leave for school. My phone flashes again, revealing notifications from my girls whose owed replies I stalled because of the Bragi household drama. Quickly typing while we’re on the wheels, I propose that we grab lunch together so we can talk until we collapse to our next classes.

The girls respond to me in no time, mostly flooding my inbox with affirmative answer. Suddenly I feel like high school again, going to school only to wait for lunch so I can meet my friends at the cafeteria!

Ares and I exchange our typical nod and look by the time he stops Mystletainn at Jugdral-U’s southern parking lot. I’m waiting on him to finish parking and everything, including by the time he rests and locks his helmet with securing Mystletainn. He takes his key out of his bike, hooking it to the chain which secures his wallet in his pocket and casually approaches our university building.

The day is getting hotter by the time we trace the corridor, now bustling with all kinds of college kids come and go—some with a thick book in hand, some other looking half-dead while the rich ones are as fresh as a collagen-coated baby. Typical morning in our pride and joy of a school.

I don’t even realize I’ve been tailing Ares without saying anything—step by step, floor by floor, including when he takes a detour to climb a set of staircases to the second floor. I want to ask if he’s actually alright and that him getting Googled truly did not matter just as he told me it did not, but somehow…

Hnnn. What happened to me? Lately it’s so easy to get tongue-tied when Ares gets to be… Ares. I’m vivacious and I’ve no trouble to ask questions or say what I deem needed, so why now? S-sigh.

I quickly halt my steps when he stops; my comfortable canvas shoes nearly trips over his combat boots. He turns around, and I wish I had a parfait to ward him off because he’s smirking. “New student?”

“Huh?”

“This is my class, rabbit,” he deadpans, pointing at the timetable and room number plastered on the door. I voluntarily give my forehead a slap—I’ve been so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I didn’t realize I’m practically following him everywhere! S-shit, I feel like the timetable is laughing at me!

“At least it’s not bathroom,” I pout at him. “Oh, wait—as if I’ll be afraid if it is a bathroom.”

“How bold.”

“I fear no lion demon. Where have you been?”

“In awe.”

“... Shut up your face, Ares,” sighing, I whack his head with my bag.

“Right. So what is it?” he chuckles, leaving the door creaking a little like he’s waiting for me to speak.

“Uhhh.”

“Yes?”

“Are you truly alright?” gahhh, FINALLY!! Won’t everything be easier if I just said that at the parking lot, or even prior?! “Like, alright-alright? Knowing you, I know you won’t shed a tear out of nothing!”

“… Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Nooo!” I tug on him, swaying his arm back and forth like the totally big girl I am… not. Sigh. “Crying is good! Actually, it made you more humane, you know? Oh wait, don’t lion demons cry? Hnnn~?”

“… More humane, huh?”

“Mm-hmm! Why, you got called names for being in pain or shedding tears? Those are babies not men. You’re fine just the way you are! A-ahem, I mean—b-besides, it doesn’t make you any less of anything! L-like you can still destroy people’s ribcages and everything and go home as a Mr. Nordion—I… mean…”

… Again, can my brain and my mouth just correspond for a fucking second?!

… H-he’s… chuckling?!

“What a peculiar human. You’re so c—” he stops talking because another figure approaches from the other side of the corridor. He—right, a he—stops when he sees us frolicking at the threshold like that, and w-waaah, I quickly put myself between him and Ares because… because it’s Seliph!!

Right, it’s Seliph! His mouth is half-open because like me he totally didn’t expect to see me… or rather, Ares here. “Hi, Seliph~!” I wave at him, nervously glance at Ares who is back in that sharp eyes mode the way a lion analyzes a potential prey.

“Eh—hello!” he waves back with a smile though. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

“T-that’s right! H-haha, ahaha…” I scratch my head like a totally intelligent, rocket science professor I am.

… Not. Sigh.

“This is my class, blue head. Rather than that, why the fuck are you here?”

H-here we go again…

“Huh? I know this is your class, Ares! I mean Lene,” wow, Seliph’s air is still unperturbed and tranquil. Maybe he truly is one of those formidable sports comics protagonists! Looking so calm and not dangerous but hiding potent power within! That, or he’s the true masochist of all the masochists!!

… Seliph is a wind turbine!! That should explain why his hair is blue! AAAA—

“She has the right to be anywhere she wants,” Ares grunts.

“Ah, right, right. Of course I didn’t mean anything. I’m here to see Altena…” he smiles. “Excuse me.”

“You think?” Ares totally shoots him a death glare now! W-wew…

“Oh, should I remove you?”

H-huh? Seliph barks a threat with a smiling face like he’s signaling if Ares starts shit, he won’t back down?

“… Remove me, you said. Interesting…”

I won’t let this happen! Hnnn! My hands fly—one to Ares, and another to Seliph, capturing their ears each! “Fight and fight—don’t you two have better things to do, equally awesome, charming, _handsome_ lion and formidable dragon here—rather than shooting death glare at each other?! Shake hands or just kiss already! You—Ares, how many times do I need to tell you his name is Seliph?! A-and Seliph, removing what? He’s not a wet floor sign! If you really are just itching for a fight, then go past me first!”

“That’s easy. You’re a foot shorter than me,” Ares states innocently, with Seliph nodding in unison.

“Now YOU are the one with a death wish,” I conveniently step on his foot. Huffing, I turn back at Seliph.

Unexpectedly, Seliph pauses. And he suddenly chuckles…

“There’s a cleaning kit leaning against this wall, you know,” he points innocently, prompting us to turn around. Wew, right, there’s a window cleaner we didn’t catch because the stick color is similar to the door! “If you insist, that will fall on you… no, her.”

“Oh,” I comment. “Eeeeh?”

S-so!! My fiery speech is for nothing? Aaaaahhh—

“S-so Ares threatened you out of nothing!” I gasp. “A-and I pinched your ear for nothing!”

“Haha, it’s alright, I can take a hit or ten!” Seliph grins, opening the door from the other side as not to disturb the window mop leaning on the left side near us. S-sigh.

“… Oi.”

Aaaah, I’ve been being too embarrassed that I didn’t see Ares touching Seliph’s shoulder!

“Yes?” Seliph is still s-smiling… just how many alleged demons attending this school, actually?!

Ares scratches his nose. Awkwardly. So, so awkwardly. And then…

“… Good morning, Chalphy.”

Wow? N-no. Wooow!!

Seliph pauses again, like he’s assessing if Ares truly said that. But the alleged lion demon merely nods in a formal manner, withdrawing himself to give Seliph more room to get into the class! Seliph looks incredibly surprised as well, but he smiles, returning the courtesy by holding the door open. “After you.”

It seems his gesture took Ares by surprise as well. He groans, yet not protesting further when Seliph holds the door open for him. Seliph shakes his head softly, following behind him. Before I get to race the stairs again, however, he gives me a thumbs-up in silence!

Hnnn. If only these two could reconcile… imagine such a great team they’d made if they’d just…

One by one then, I guess. I’m not anyone’s fixer—and more importantly, if I don’t want Ares to treat Coirpre like a job—regardless he meant it or not—then I shouldn’t treat Ares like a… project. Well, I’m not here to fix him—first thing first I’m not here to be anyone’s repairman! It’s just… there’s so much potential that can go on a waste if let by!

… I sincerely hope he can don his belt again without hurting.

* * *

 

“Well?”

Just as I expect, the girls already crowd a certain table at the campus cafeteria, each ready with their foods. I got a text from Lana, telling me where they’re going to wait for me. The classes before lunch didn’t really trouble me; if anything I miraculously avoided bumping into Diarmuid, successfully evading his cheery wide steps like a spider because otherwise he truly didn’t even see me coming!

I gave him a quick update about Ares—I just told him Ares was alright, we got to school together, he ate at my place, all those things… saving the Yied part for them to discuss in detail, of course, considering… it’s not like Diarmuid didn’t know, right?

If anything, I told him that Ares truly is a kind person, in case some assholes spread shit about his fight at the Yied. A-and definitely, DEFINITELY because I had to reiterate that what happened truly wasn’t like what everyone thought to be, on Instagram! Hnnn!

What I did not expect, however, was when Diarmuid paused; looking pensive like he contemplated whether to share his thoughts about Ares or not. Hmmm, perhaps he started seeing me as one of the few people who made it into Ares’ friendship circle?

Regardless, I had to leave him when Lana’s text came, so eh, perhaps next time, Diarmuid!

I get myself some brazenly-delicious chicken tandoori with saffron rice from one of the newly-opened counters at the cafeteria, bringing my box where the girls sit. When they see me coming, they wave enthusiastically, albeit with a hint of… nervousness, I guess—especially Fee.

Calmly taking my seat, I put my food on the table. “I’m alright.”

That probably isn’t the best ice breaker to start a chat, but…

Suddenly Fee draws me in for a hug. She looks incredibly relieved—her nose is pretty red by the time she wraps me in her arms. “God. I feel so bad! If only I could return faster after driving Ced…”

I don’t know what prompts it, but in that split second it’s like I got yanked out of a slumber—everything changes in a gradual manner like a block of ice; cracks, and then gradually melts. “They—got me,” my words come out just like that, even before I could filter anything. “And they—hated Ares—so much. I didn’t know that place was basically the start of the second darkest part in his life, but even after knowing that, h-he still…”

Everyone is looking at me now.

“H-he’s always there,” my words come out like beads, spiraling freely from a chain which holds everything together. “Always lending a hand to others who may need it even though he’s hurting. Even registering his own cousin for the upcoming sports match—l-like. Like he’s trying to atone the sins he did not even…”

“You’re crying,” Lana whispers.

“Am I,” I don’t even know anymore at this point. Everything was fine… but only after Ares is no longer around me that I realized how big everything actually is. Oh, not to mention apparently I was actually shocked without even knowing it… “I-if so, then just like him, last night…”

“… He cried?” this time Fee bets on her courage to ask me.

And I just—nod. Forgive me, Ares, but at this point I feel like… I need to entrust this to some other people. Not only for me—but also…

Slow but sure my own story comes out. It begins with Coirpre with bad legs whom Ares drove home and then treated. How nice everything felt like just because he joined me for dinner. How, unlike everyone else who just… left… like my own parents… he chose to stay. How he always fulfills whatever he promised me, including driving Coirpre to school and picking him up again after. How he was concerned about the Yied; probably after seeing too much during his bleak, bleak time being there, yet refraining from chaperoning me and instead walking the talk rather than preaching me about what’s supposed to be appropriate and not. How never once Ares made a degrading comment about me, my major, even dancing in clubs or cafes because those places sadly dare to pay me the highest. How he did not invite himself in, thinking he was entitled of more than I gave him—or show him too, regardless—how despite his tough and taciturn demeanor, he actually cared a lot about people who were supposed to be related to him. How he’s so aware of himself; his black belt, power and everything that he sparred Altena only because they’ve been friends with each other and understanding each other’s strength—because Altena too is a blackbelt. How he just… doesn’t brag, despite fulfilling all the checklists if he was to do that. How he never cared if people called him names, looking at him like he’s either this oddball who delivers his mother’s catering or a power-hungry conqueror-like delinquent who gets into fights. How he still worked on that Agustrian project despite being aware that his own presence at Maera Hall might shock people, how he simply invited others to set their differences for the greater good.

… How… despite being angrier than angry, he actually refrained from hurting people mindlessly. How he did not even touch Chagall or Manfroy despite having them cornered at an understandable explosive fury. How he just conveniently withdrew his application to be promoted to the third-degree black belt in the art he’s been doing for all his life out of courtesy—and mind you, just because people spread rumors about him, even taking him out of the ring—the true glory he deserves; not the Yied, but here at Jugdral-U with the rest of Crusader aces. How he’s concerned of troubling me that he made us breakfast.

And what did he ask again when his rice balls came into conversation? Ah, right—edible or not…

 “A-and that’s why,” I tilt my head at Fee. “I feel like people are hunting him down the way assholes are obsessed of wanting to capture the oldest alligator or some shit. Even if practically the lion is just… there, not doing anything, and not even striking back because he knows if shit is to get serious…”

“… He’ll get reprimanded even more?”

“No,” I shake my head violently. “Because he knows he holds the greater power.”

“… Gods,” the girls murmur.

“S-so when you joked about him raising Coirpre with me, I…”

“You’re scared he’ll leave just like the others, isn’t it?” Fee sticks her tongue at me before squeezing my cheeks. “Haha, gods, aren’t you cuuute~! But giiirl. It’s Ares—you said it yourself, the alleged lion demon is not just some other guy. Besides, Ares is Ares, not some Mister X or whoever it was that bolted the fuck out of your life just because… what, you’re an orphaned child with a younger brother? What a dick.”

“W-well, I’m not entitled to Ares’… anything, you know?!” red-faced, I tick Fee’s nose. Y-yeah, why do I get red-faced talking about this again?! “Besides, it’s not just some cutesy things! I don’t get close to people… w-well, especially men—easily.”

“I’m sorry,” Fee slings her arm around me. “I really didn’t know and that’s insensitive of me. But Lene? You’ve been holding everything alone—life is too much to be contained in that tiny fun-sized body.”

“Hnnn.”

“Yeah. Take your own advice, Older Sister of Coirpre,” Larcei sighs. “Good God. We’re friends, dammit.”

“B-but exactly because you are all my friends that I don’t want to trouble you…”

“Tsk tsk. That’s what’s friends are for!” Lana raises her index finger as if scolding me for rebutting. “Actually, exactly because we’re friends that we should do something for you when life is kicking you down! Ares or no Ares, we’re here to stay!”

“Right! Screw men, sisterhood is forever,” Larcei grins, flexing her muscles at us. “Listen, we’re best friends, aren’t we? Good friend will just send you a get well soon emoji, but the real shit is we’re going to invade your room and make you take your meds and everything.”

“If you keep doing everything alone, you’ll burn out,” Lana smiles again.

“And exactly because I see how he seems to interact with Coirpre just fine. Listen—Ced even says the wimpiest kids can talk to him while the loudest won’t start shit when he’s around. He’s got that subtle regal charisma, your lion. And you’re my friend—I’m not saying these out of malicious intent, girl.”

“H-he’s not my lion.”

“Then why are you this sad?” Larcei pats my head. “Come on. You’re not going to lie to us, Lene.”

“Gods, I don’t know!” I rest my hands on my cheeks. “I—don’t—know!! J-just like at the parking lot before you showed up, I don’t know! I can’t say anything even if I want to tell you guys everything!! I-it’s just I feel happy when he’s around because s-somehow he’s got that ability to make me feel safe and cared for? Like he doesn’t even say much but I can trust him and count on him to do what’s necessary and do the right thing—w-well, perhaps by the guidance of leporidae a little bit—“

“Leporidae—rabbit?”

“Uhhh.”

“Girl.”

“And he’s like this ferocious warrior with a gentle personality inside. He’s a tender man. Subtly, but it’s there. Like there’s this endearing… innocence about him other people tend to lose once life fucks them up. Well, life fucked him up too, but like—“

“… Girl.”

“And being around him feels… warm? Hmmm, he kind of said that lately too. Perhaps because out of people in this school I’m the only one annoying him enough by bouncing around him and everything. But… yeah? Like, despite all those mullet-yanking ribs-tickling head-whacking and everything, if I’m not comfortable then I won’t do those things, you know? But each time I want to make him tell me what his species actually is, he kept insisting that he’s human. It can’t be. Not even supposed Lucifer can be so brazenly handsome like that. Also, those abs truly committed blasphemy, I’m sure of it. Ahhh, right. What if he was one of the wizards who got burnt at stake and then reincarnated?! What if it was the god of war himself?? But god of war is supposed to be like… villainous. But he’s just so cute and I mean like this warm-fuzzy-comfortable cute and everything!! What if he and Seliph are demons? Incubus??”

G-gods, I didn’t realize I’ve been rambling non-stop that my girls are looking at me like I’m a red carpet moment disaster! “Sorry for dominating the conversation, ladies—but seriously, riddle me fucking this—it’s like I low-key wish I was dead when he smiles so tenderly like that. Or having the audacity to drop his chords as if we’re invading some other country by dropping bombs.”

“Eugh, what a weird analogy,” Fee responds, but her eyes are like… _twinkling._ “But really, though. You still don’t know? Haaahaha! Oooomigosh, and you called HIM dumb?”

“It’s a match, though,” Larcei smirks. “Want an advice? Bag him, foxy.”

“Right~! That’s what I’d say myself!” Fee slams her knuckles on the table.

“No. I don’t do kidnapping! First thing first, he’s too strong for me to overpower.”

“… Lene…”

“This morning he put me into a playful wristlock and then told me he’s not a masochist.”

“Suuuure he isn’t,” Larcei whistles. “Sigh, what’s next, he ties you up or something?”

“Oh, Lord God,” Lana slumps her head on the table. “I—I take it back, why am I friends with you again?”

“I couldn’t even talk! He just—“

“… You couldn’t even talk?”

“L-Larcei?”

“… Did he just… what?”

“Hnnn? He didn’t hurt me at all, really! I had fun playing fighting with him but still I couldn’t escape. He just wanted to thank me. So like he put me in wristlock and then bombed me with gratitude…”

“Reverse-Dom.”

“What?”

“Fifty Shades of Black… Knight?”

“WHAT?”

“I see. A _gentle_ giant indeed, huh?”

“W-would you speak English—“

“Right, right. Those eyes are raw, can’t be innocent.”

“… Excuse me??”

“Well, life fucked him up, so sure he isn’t.”

“Life fucks up everyone, so technically nobody is.”

“Fair point.”

I can only STARE as Larcei and Fee keep throwing lines at each other and end everything with a high-five, while Lana… oh wait, she’s dead. But then again, what’s this sudden discourse about Ares being a… what, just now, ‘reverse-dom’? Dom what—Domino’s Pizza?

“Are you sure you’re okay like this?” Fee nudges me. “Even you can’t deny he’s handsome. I mean…”

“You seem happy being with him,” Larcei nods. “So take him out. Dom the Dom.”

“Oh, Lord God,” Lana mumbles again.

“I thought you were dead,” I remark innocently.

“I wish,” she sighs. “I am now.”

“Alright, I’ll ask Ares if he likes Domino’s Pizza then! Happy now?!” finally I shout at the girls.

Larcei and Fee stop. The second after, however, they laugh their asses off like their life depends on it! Wew, even everyone else at the cafeteria starts looking at us. They try so hard to stop themselves from rolling onto the floor laughing, while some people who sit close to us have different reactions—some keep eating in a chivalrous manner like they didn’t hear anything weird, while some other clear their throat after taking a sip in a manner which looks like they’re ready to swallow the glass as a whole too.

It will be convenient if I can ask Lana why those two are laughing like a madman, but she’s dead.

Regardless of this Domino’s Pizza discourse, what I’m glad about the most is that it seems everything is normal again! Seeing them loosely laugh like that warms my heart. I don’t want to lose anyone—not Coirpre, not the girls, and…

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I did not deck Chalphy._

Smiling, I softly shake my head at the phone. What a dork.

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Anyway he offered me breakfast bread._

… Such a dork…

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _With pulled beef inside. … Not bad…_

… Endearing dork…

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _He’s safe. Only today, though._

 ** _dancedancerebellion_  
** _Hehe, he will be in the upcoming days too!_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _… Don’t get too cocky, rabbit._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Wanna bet? =^^=_

“The lion?”

Before I know it the girls are hovering over the table, facing my phone with great interest. Ah, right. Come to think of it they haven’t really seen the way we nudge at each other, huh? Usually they interact with Ares separately, and the last time we’re all in the same picture, the situation was unkind.

… Strangely this time I’m not feeling shy that they caught me texting him like this…

Hmmm, come to think of it, exchanging direct messages is just virtual texting, no?

T-this is odd. Back then I firmly believed those two were separate things!! What’s going on? And why am I not feeling as disturbed now? Why?

Shaking my head, I spare the girls another smile. “No. The cub,” chuckling, I lock my phone and returning it to my pocket. We spend the rest of lunch time chattering, and again they ask me if everything is truly alright to make sure that last night’s confrontation isn’t leaving a mark on me.

Well, it is. I mean, everything which impacts us will leave a mark, anyway—some are more visible than the others, and some last longer compared to the others. But at the same time being surrounded by the right people—having the right company by your side is a blessing I won’t trade with anything else.

… That’s why even life gets hard and challenging, I consider myself lucky. I have a brother I’m doting on and equally doting on me, I have sincere friends a girl can ask of this world. Even though the journey is perilous, I’m sure we’re all going to be okay and my ship won’t lose a direction.

… And perhaps a strange wild ship which happens to cross my path doesn’t always mean malice. Even if the captain is a nerdish oddball who speaks like an alleged demonic entity who braves the seas alone…

“I’m alright,” repeating the line, I conveniently sling my arms around the girls. “Even if I’m not now, I will be. Just like everything will be, eventually. Just like I believe I’ll meet my mother again someday.”

They pause, until Fee breaks the silence with her zealous voice. “That’s the spirit, alright~! Yeees! Life has no chance to win against one _killene_ machine!”

“You’re a good person,” Larcei ruffles my fringes in a sisterly manner. “So let’s take everything one by one. It’s not that we want to chaperone you, but exactly because we know you’ve been there all along.”

“Hnnn.”

“It’s alright,” Fee nods beside me. “Sometimes shit makes your heart throb but that’s why it’s worth it!” she steals a quick glance at her own phone, smirking tenderly at it.

“Arthur?” we ask in unison.

She winks at us.

* * *

 

If you think being… ahem, interrogated by the girls for my… errr, so-called liaison with Ares, apparently that’s still tamer compared to a bunch of inquisitive twelve year-olds! Oooh boy. First thing first I end up meeting Ares again at the southern parking lot because I want some strawberry milk tea for a go-to refreshment before I get to coach them.

I’m queuing with the girls, who line up around me whispering their orders to me in the most detailed way possible. Right when I thought my head will explode when Fee is on it again with the ‘perfect ratio of chocolate and milk being one versus one’ as she puts it, we’re being surprised by… well, him!

Never mind that Fee is gleefully grinning at him before pushing him to queue behind me. He scratches his head, utterly confused because suddenly there are three girls who look at him with such interest the way a cat eying anything you eat. Of course I have to snort when he asks for mango smoothie. If anything, now I know that despite everything he says Ares is actually a loyal person who is dead set on something when his mind decides on it! It’s like the moment he discovered mangoes actually taste nice, that very moment he made his choice. So… he’ll just set his mind on anything which impresses him on the first sight? Like all you do to impress Ares is knocking him out in the feels?

The girls exchange a few words with him—or rather, I should say, a few… i-interrogation session!

“Mango smoothie?” Fee nudges him without hesitation.

“Yeah. Sweet flavor will be the death of me,” Ares replies in his typical manner, flat and deadpanned.

“Do you like anything else?” Lana chimes in.

“Yeah. Wasabi. If there’s anything else, just call on me.”

“Do you like anyone else?”

Everyone pauses, shooting Larcei a silent scream of agony.

“Uh—“ wew, what should I do?

“Why are you panicking?” Larcei looks at me, and I swear Fee gulps her drink just so she won’t laugh!

“Isn’t this a drink stand?” Ares purses his lips, looking amused. “Am I free to go now, ladies?”

“Nah. You didn’t even fucking answer,” Larcei shrugs.

“Anyone else?” suddenly he flashes a leonine smirk at her! “Probably not.”

“H-huh… what’s that supposed to mean?” Larcei stops at her track.

“Meaning I’ve answered,” he simply chuckles, dumping a giant cookie into her hand! “Here you go. Got this for free with my smoothie. If I eat that, I’ll die.”

“Oh, thanks,” Larcei, not knowing anything else to say, can only contemplate on the cookie Ares shared with her. That gesture seems to be unexpected to everyone else too, because they pause like they just got outmaneuvered like that!

“Hold on,” Fee grabs him by the waist, her eyes sparkling like she’s ready to fight Ares to the death! “You must be a Dom.”

Lana makes a long, long sigh again, haplessly looking at Ares.

“That’s Lene.”

Huh??

“I’m not _obsessed_ with Domino’s Pizza, you know?!” my hand flies to capture his mullet.

“Case in point?” he quirks an eyebrow. The girls pause. Lana reacts first by facepalm-ing so hard, followed by Fee who muffles her egregious laughter by yet downing a generous gulp of her drink. Larcei sighs, again, like an exasperated grandma contemplating of murdering her neighbors with a chainsaw.

“So… you hate Domino’s Pizza?” I huff, confused. Perhaps alleged lion demons don’t eat pizza?

“Oh, Lene,” Fee groans, leaning herself against her car.

Ares shakes his head. Suddenly he smirks faintly, approaching Fee who is still throwing some lines at him being alleged human and oh-so-incredibly dumb but cunning regardless. Before our eyes, suddenly he swipes Fee off her feet and gently settling her on top of her car’s bonnet!

“There’s a spider under,” he says—a _devilish_ smile crowns his lips as he drops his voice like that.

“Oh, thanks,” Fee clutches on her drink, absolutely stunned by what just happened.

“Anytime,” he smirks, making a military salute before walking up to retrieve Mystletainn.

“Dom,” Larcei bites into the cookie. “But—shit, this is good.”

“Totally,” Fee nods, shooting murderous glare at the spider before sliding off the car’s bonnet.

Whatever it is—not to mention that Ares didn’t even say whether he actually hates Domino’s or not—my own kids… ahem, the kids I coach are crowding me the moment I get to the school! They do look enthusiastic because they get to practice at their own field, sharing it with the players for the first time. I’ve planned to have them take the field along with the players. Supposedly, if they’re done with their routine drilling then the players will have a test-play like an actual game. Then from there the names will be listed, telling who gets to sit as substitute players and who will make it to the main team. The league will start soon after, bringing middle schools to compete against each other.

There aren’t many middle schools around the vast Jugdral region of Emblem City, so our Thracia Academy’s junior high will face middle schools of Manster, Silesse, Grannvale, Miletos, Isaach, Orgahill, Verdane, even the Yied Ave’s… and of course the Agustrian district. Who gets to kick whose ass first will be drawn with lottery, and if we manage to reign as the champion of Jugdral, we may qualify for a bigger scale competition, like facing the champion of Magvel region, for example.

“Are you related to Coach N, Coach Bragi?” Sara starts with her honest question as I prepare my attendance form and report book that afternoon.

“Hnnn? Not at all. Why, dear~?”

“Oh. Because you came with him for sending Coirpre to school! So I thought you live with him!”

That practically makes me trip against the trash can and gloriously kiss the wall nearby. “Nooo, I don’t!”

“Oh… so Coach N isn’t your older brother?”

B-bless children indeed.

I get the kids to change into their sports uniform because cheering uniforms won’t be here until the match is about to start. Leaving ladies’ locker room, I get back to Coirpre’s supposed class, finding Ares alone facing the whiteboard with a bunch of papers in his hands. He’s reading them thoroughly, occasionally adding some things to write on the board. He’s changed into a comfortable workout t-shirt and a whistle is dangling on his neck like a necklace.

“Got time, Coach Nordion~?” I come inside, noticing the music slowly playing out of his earphones.

 _Is there anything I could do_  
_Just to get some attention from you_  
_In the waves I've lost every trace of you_  
_Where are you?_

Huh—Woodkid? After the country music about cavalryman fantasy, he listens to a mushy song too?

Startled, he turns around, taking off the Bluetooth headphone off his head. “Sure, Coach Bragi,” he replies, connecting back that active, mountain-climber phone’s black casing with a chain which he then hooks into his pants’ pocket. Ah, so he’s ready to go now?

“I was wondering if you could help me a little bit?” I posit my demand, somehow feeling rather shy having to do this. “I plan to take the girls to field so they can share with your players. They should be here shortly because I’d like to drill them a bit before taking them outside.”

“I’ll get the boys cooperate so they can practice too,” he smiles. “Wish the best for Coirpre.”

“Oh, he’s so on fire. He so wants to make it to the main team,” chuckling, I look at the whiteboard. Oh, formation and battle tactics? Neat. “Maybe you coach well?”

“Maybe he’s got a great sister to impress,” he responds, running his fingers over his nose awkwardly. Haha, he’s embarrassed? Awh, why, see, cute cub!

The girls arrive shortly after, looking rather intense and nervous—especially when the players return to the class. They are surprised to find my team and I there, and some tough-looking kids look so surprised that they whisper at each other. I’m not new in terms of running into mean kids every now and then, so needless to say, they seem to talk about me. Hmmm, perhaps they’ve never seen a dancer up-close before? Or… ah, right, so far the cheer team and soccer players hardly even meet for the same session!

Coirpre arrives with Ced. He looks like he’s about to jump on his toes when he sees me, and I smile faintly at him with a nod. Slow but sure his eyes light up, and he nods back in a really boyish manner—something I’ve never seen before, like he’s growing into a sports show protagonist while I was asleep. I can feel it. His confidence is flowing, and he even shakes Ced’s hand with a determined look!

“Is nobody going to move so the cheer girls can sit or what?” Ares’ deep voice tears the classroom while he drags a chair out of the lecturer’s desk for me.

“But why are they here?” says one of those tough-looking kids who looked at me prior.

T-that boyish audacity, hrrrh! If this isn’t a kid—let alone a kid of a school which pays me, I’m so giving him an earful for that! Oh, you’re surprised that we exist in the same space like you? Groundbreaking for men to find out that they don’t actually own the world the way they think they do, huh?

“They are part of the team,” Ares states simply. “So welcome, girls, and this is what we’ll do today.”

“Oooh, formation!” Miranda’s eyes sparkle. “We’re going to war, to war, to war.”

“Why are there so many lines?” Sara remarks—again, innocently, with her soft voice.

“Man, she’s dumb. Girls are,” another tough-looking kid blurts.

“I heard ya,” Miranda turns around, shooting sharp dagger-glare at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Hello, Barbie.”

“The hell you called me?”

“Uh, kids,” I quickly walk up to the boy. “That wasn’t nice, but let’s get back to what’s important.”

“Okay, Miss,” the tough-looking kids sulk.

“You will address her as Coach Bragi the way you respect me,” Ares speaks from before the whiteboard. “I don’t tolerate girl-bashing in my team, kiddo. A team is a team and that includes the girls in it.”

“Fhhhh. Okay.”

“Good. So here’s the plan,” he returns to the whiteboard. “You can run encircling the field four times after stretching while the cheer team does their orientation with Coach Bragi. I’ll rotate turns so you get to do sharp, fast paired dribbles with each other and then we’ll play.”

“Play?”

“Yes. Do your best. This is a selection, so treat it like a real game.”

“Fucking finally.”

Ares raises an eyebrow.

“… F-finally, Coach N.”

He smirks approvingly.

“So why are the girls here to learn battle tactics even if they’re not playing?”

Ares shakes his head again… “Because a team rations supplies and divides forces,” he says with a small smile, flipping the papers he’s holding. HwaT—it’s a bundle of classical military manuals, the top-front being Sunzi’s _Art of War_! … What a dork. “When a plan is understood and shared by everyone, you get a well-executed maneuver. And then again ten brains are better than one at times.”

“Please speak Human,” I mouth to him.

“Oh, right. Because the girls are part of the team and whatever the team has, every member gets it.”

I sit with the others hearing him relaying the battle tactics. He wants people to go strong for the first game, whoever the opponent is, he says—because not only it boosts morale, it takes the enemy by surprise because apparently there’s this little rule in a fight that when you can’t read the opponent and that the opponent is an equal, fatally striking first makes a wise choice rather than waiting because it makes everything stagnant; tiring you out and risking your moves being studied by the opponent. He wants the team to be able to score a goal for the first round with such strong entry like that, and then conserving energy by defending the line while studying the opponent’s movements. He says that in the real game they will face later they can switch—the strikers and middle-fielders taking a breather while the team enters their defensive phase while the rear guards work hard, and he’d like to see how this tactic be implemented in this trial-and-error game to see if the players get it and to see if both can overcome it. For short, if this formation is broken, then the solution for breaking the formation itself can be recycled to be used as a defense against an actual opponent who will break this formation…

… So during the game everything is covered that the opponent won’t be able to steal a chance.

… Ferocious, the lion. But at the same time that’s kind of cool and well-planned!

“Is that what you do when you fight?” Coirpre whispers as kids run outside to get to the field.

“I’m not answering that. Join the others,” he musters a stern tone. Heh, perhaps Coirpre isn’t so over it. But I find it funny somehow—because Ares did what I’d do too each time Coirpre is ~at it~ again—giving him the older sister tone and approach because with a heavy heart, we can’t let him destroy himself!

We’re out at the field!

I bring the radio tape with me, and I take the girls to walk back and forth—from one end to the other, from where the nets to the sides so they can see the corners, penalty lines, everything. Because chances are I’ll need to send quick signals depending on how the game proceeds, so it’ll be helpful if they know what’s what and how the game runs.

Playing some instrumental music I lead them to stretch. Counting the reps, I make them yell the team’s motto and everything, coordinating those sections with the way they draw and release breathing to improve stamina and their capability to stretch their vocal chords when we perform later.

I can hear commotion—somewhat—from the outer side of the field where Ares gets his boys running, apparently because the players are curious enough that they ruin their laps to peek into the cheer girls’ training! Hehe, now you know that we work hard too! Seriously, if I was a dictator I’d declare this a sport.

“Thra-ci-a! Thra-ci-a! Thra-ci-a Invictaaaa!” Miranda yells on top of her lungs, looking so pleased to know that her voice can be heard clearly across the field, and definitely not the so-called scary crow voice like she complained about prior.

“Good! Do that again!” laughing, I pick myself up from the ground after doing a split.

“Thra-ci-a! Thra-ci-a! Thra-ci-a Fortissimaaa!” Karin yells after Miranda.

“Invicta! Fortissima! Victoria! Thracia Aeterna!!”

“Yeees!!” the girls throw their hands up, happiness and relief are spelt on their faces when they manage to conquer the stage. Exchanging laughter and giggles they draw each other into a group hug, so much that I almost get teary-eyed myself! Catching Ares’ towering posture as he herds the kids to make a detour at the field, he smiles at me with a thumbs-up. Returning the smile, I flex a V-pose at him. Playing the tape again we rehearse our moves and maneuvers with the songs we’re using.

By the time the boys reach their third lap, I get the girls to run inside the field. “We’ll do two laps for today. The next time we’re here, we’ll get you run whatever laps the boys do. Keep your voice clear—stay away from cold drinks and all-nighter during the game, alright~?” I wink at them. Lining them in four columns, I take a position to run alongside them. “Remember, this isn’t a competition! Your only enemy is the team’s opponent, not the girl beside you. Are we clear?”

“Yes!” they shout like military privates in a drill.

“Good! Get ready. Keep your paces balanced—no need to outshine one another because this place is big enough for everyone to shine! Don’t outrun your friend, I want to check how you fare after all of you undergo the same training so I can keep track with your stamina!”

“Alright!”

“Right. Let’s do this,” I gather everyone into a circle. “For Thracia?”

“Yes! Thracia Aeterna!”

We run again, and Ares needs to glare at the boys who are clearly star-struck looking at us. Yay, objection fulfilled~! Hehehe, this doesn’t feel much different compared to what I do as a dancer. Good, good, look at my dance and forget all your weariness and troubles! And before you know it, you’re ready to brave the world again~!

“She’s right,” I hear him speaking when we’re nearby. “Keep your paces, but don’t outrun each other.”

“You must be kidding.”

“No. Coach Bragi knows what she’s doing,” Ares responds then. “While you don’t. Move, boys.”

This is fun, admittedly. Ares keeps the boys in line so none of them collides against the girls. He divides the field by half—with his boys taking half and us the other. Of course it’s too big for just five of us, but he insists because we just had the field today while they’ve had it since forever. Real equality, he says with a smirk. And I can’t help but pinching his waist when he does that.

And it’s also fun to work with him like this. Tilting my head, I see that the boys are done with their sprint-drilling, just the way my girls are done with our own workout as I greenlight them to rest. They are sitting and cooling down on the grassy surface of the field, laughing, chattering, looking so proud of themselves for everything we did today. The friendship and comradeship are strong and I can feel it. I can’t resist smiling when Sara approaches Miranda for tips, when Karin checks on Tinny if she burns her legs muscles or anything, when they braid Sara’s beautiful silvery purple locks because her pigtail is loose. Ares approaches us, and somehow I can’t resist smiling as well…

“Hellooo, Coach N!” Karin waves at him. Ares holds a mineral water bottle in his hand, smiling at her.

“I’m here to take questions in case there are things you aren’t clear about soccer.”

“First thing first—I’ll relay you reports. Coordinate work, no?” I wink at him. “We’ll synergize with your gameplay and how the match itself goes. There’s a chance the other team may use intimidation tactic with their own cheerleaders to drop your morale to the ground.”

“Then I’ll be counting on you.”

“Sure~! And that’s why I want you to know! I hope you can clear the field again when it’s time for us to take the field. Like between corner kicks for example.”

“Of course,” he simply smiles. “Answer time, ladies?”

I contain my giggles in my throat as my fingers clasp together under my chin. Turns out my girls are inquisitive about the sport, and Ares finds himself under friendly fire because they don’t waste time bombing him with questions. At first it’s a matter of terminology, and then all the what-if’s scenario. Who would have thought the so-called scary Black Knight is actually… nice with children? He’s probably not smiley-friendly on the outside, but I can count on him not to leave a question hanging because he doesn’t belittle the girls, answering until the asker is satisfied like he understands they aren’t really acquainted with the field and everything before this season starts. Well, there’s truth in it, though. The way cheer team often being misunderstood and left alone to fend for ourselves, like from seeking grants to even having members who are educated enough about all the how-tos in the game. We work hard. Just like one lady I used to watch on TV said—“If we’re not athletes, how can we do this?” she then demonstrated a perfect leg hoist before the non-unsuspecting reporter.

“Time’s up,” Ares glances at his sporty black G-Shock. “One more?”

“What do you think of Coach Bragi?” Karin asks, earning giggles and snickers from the other girls.

“Time’s up,” Ares repeats, patting her head in a brotherly manner before getting back to train the boys.

I take the girls out of the field because the trial and error starts. Out of lottery Coirpre and Ced belong in the same team. “I’d love to fight you,” Coirpre says sheepishly. “But this is not bad either.”

“Likewise. You’re a hard worker,” the star student responds. “May the best person win.”

“Yeah!!” Coirpre waves at Tinny, who returns it by waving back to… Ced.

I sit with Ares to watch the game. W-well, talking about shared fields, when the matches start I’ll share a bench with him like this too, huh…

“Why the sudden red face, rabbit?” he murmurs behind me. “You said I don’t bite.”

I yank his mullet.

I probably shouldn’t, but somehow the simple thought of being there with him kind of makes me shy. It’s like we’re parents watching over a bunch of kids and we’d want to unleash hell against other kids who may hurt ours in the dignity organ!

… M-maybe I should stop thinking of weird things because… p-perhaps I’m the only one. Sigh.

The game starts. Coirpre waves at me when he’s close to where we sit, and I wave back. It’s invigorating to see how both sides are equally enthusiastic and determined to give their best. Well, friendly sparring as it is, in the end it’s still a selection so I understand that it’s getting intense as well.

“I don’t want to be in the rear all the time,” I can hear Coirpre faintly mutters because his side of the field is the one close to us. The game proceeds, getting more intense as the clock tickles. Ares and I practically don’t say anything—mainly because while I’m a bit anxious about Coirpre, he’s been keenly observing everything, occasionally writing something on his notes.

Taking a peek into his notes I can see that he actually knows all his players—he’s got their names and stats to observe, broken into columns and summaries. He still manages to do this despite the coursework, training Diarmuid, and delivering for his mother’s catering?

Mumbling a count he then gets up, blowing into the whistle. “Change sides,” he says, as players retreat to take a break between rounds. Clapping my hands, I get the girls to gather, sending them to the field and rehearse what we’ve been practicing.

 _All my girls on top, if you're feeling me, throw your hands up high yeah_  
_Free your mind today, don't be afraid to take the lead yeah!_

“Why that song, Miss?” one of those tough kids asks, cowering when Ares glares at him. “… Coach.”

“Because it’s necessary,” I wink at him. “Just because other people have the right to be in the same space like you, doesn’t negate your right to be there in the first place.” He looks appalled, probably not expecting my response. Returning to the bench I catch Ares’ subtle smile… “What?”

“Nothing,” he contains his light chuckles somehow. “… You’re formidable.”

Hnnn?

Nevertheless the game is on again. Most players try to rein in Ced, who moves so seamlessly like the gentle breeze. He’s really fast and agile as a middle-fielder, uncontainable the way wind flows everywhere. But being cornered by three strikers all at once provides a challenge! Coirpre sneaks out from the middle line, shouting at him. Ced shares the ball with Coirpre, who shoots at the goalie.

“Offside,” Ares blows the whistle. “Too bad. That was nice.”

“Then back me up,” Coirpre grumbles.

“I’d have reached you if I was free,” Ced pats him.

They play again. I begin to sense that something just isn’t right there. There’s something I can’t wrap my mind around, but I’m not sure what. The way they play is just… strange, somehow. I nudge Ares. He stops writing and look at me. “Ced seems to be dominating the field.”

“Middle-fielder is the most flexible position at the field because he can be anywhere needed.”

“No, like…” I bite my lips. “… Like he’s alone.”

That seems to catch Ares’ attention because he looks concerned after I said it. “Alone?”

Wew, he stands up to leave the bench. I mirror him somehow, tailing him when he runs to watch the game from the side of the field. I can see that Ced is trying to fulfill his commitment with Coirpre, because he catches up with Coirpre the moment my little brother wants to strike again. The opposing team keeps the ball in their possession, in a triangle formation that each player tricks the advancing opponent by rotating the ball between them.

Coirpre runs to get to the first player who holds the ball, but he dribbles it around to his teammate, and when Ced arrives to snatch it, they let him pass by like ignoring him. This practically locks Ced in an awkward position because if he goes through, it’s going to be another offside, yet Coirpre is stuck in the endless triangle pattern. Meanwhile the clock keeps ticking. Other kids already had their share of doing a shoot-on-goal—a shot which sends them to face off against the goalkeeper, regardless the outcome. But Coirpre is trapped in the middle line while other kids taunt him to grab the ball because of the time.

Ares barks through his whistle. Three times—three times he did, causing the game to be put on a halt. He looks displeased—frowning, even his hand is in his pocket! “Who taught you to play dirty?”

No kid says anything.

“This birdcage trap is old and already disapproved on international level,” he says. “Do a kickoff again.”

The game resumes. It seems normal, but there’s still… something which doesn’t sit well with me. I can’t fathom what it is—moreover, I don’t want to make it like I’m controlling him because people may accuse me of trying to alter the course in favor of Coirpre. I dread it. He and I are professional, so if another rumor is going to break him like that and I’m the one causing it…

Coirpre gets the ball. I hold my breath hoping everything is alright—he’s advancing, altering dribbles with Ced in a beautiful zigzag pattern. Right, he can do this too! Come on, Coirpre—

“Whoa,” Ced yells, evading a vicious tackle. He passes the ball to Coirpre in a spur moment.

“Yeah~!” Coirpre receives it with his thighs, smirking at Ares as if saying he didn’t forget the advice. Ares curves his lips when Coirpre does the scissor kick he did at home, and…

The ball lands crassly against the goalkeeper. It didn’t get through, but Coirpre made a shoot-on-goal at least. The game ends in a draw—or so we thought, because…

Coirpre helps Ced getting up. Suddenly he approaches the strikers of the opposing team, who crowds around the goalkeeper—who is somehow smirking at Coirpre.

What happens next is so fast that I don’t even know what is what—Coirpre walks to the goalkeeper, looking like he’s in a blaze. Commotion can be heard across the field because the two start yelling at each other, until…

God knows what the goalkeeper says because suddenly Coirpre yells at him. “You can’t keep doing that, asshole!” suddenly he throws a hammer kick, mirroring what Ares did at the balcony in the morning. That sends the goalkeeper spinning before roughly tumbling against the ground, and the three strikers—the tough-looking kids who kept chirping from prior waste no time jumping on Coirpre! My little brother is getting pulled and dragged away, thrown to the ground. He whimpers and wails as little feet and fists come at him, and I’ve been too stunned to react.

“Hey, stop it!” unexpected to me it’s the girls who brave the field. Tinny quickly intervenes when Ced looks like he’s about to get punched for helping Coirpre, while Miranda approaches the strikers.

“No, no, stop it!” panicked as she is Sara tries to shoo everyone off Coirpre.

Ares catches up with the kids in no time. His eyebrows dive deeply like a preying eagle, and his expression is stern if not utterly disappointed. “What’s going on here?”

“He started it,” the strikers sneer.

“Coirpre?” Ares picks my little brother from the ground. “And you three—I’m not done with you yet.”

“I’m saved by girls,” Coirpre mutters, looking so broken that he doesn’t even dare to look at Tinny. The kids disperse, leaving only Ares, me, and Coirpre at the field after Ares told them all to change. I wonder what he’ll do to the rest of the kids involved, but right now…

“… You disappointed me,” Ares speaks in a heavy tone while Coirpre pensively looks at the ground. “Karate is off the field. How many times do I need to tell you that this is soccer game, not an arena?”

“Coirpre, why…” I’m feeling so hollow. The Coirpre I know would never do such a thing. And he just brawled—kicking another kid in a move which imitates a martial arts kick. The kind, bouncy Coirpre? _My_ Coirpre? The Coirpre who will wait on me working late-night with books and Spongebob Squarepants on the sofa? The Coirpre whose simple happiness consists of nice foods and patisseries?

“I…”

“I had high hopes in you,” Ares sighs. “Now you started a fight. This way you can’t play. If I didn’t ground you, other kids may think I play favorites just because I’m acquainted with your sister.”

“No!” with blazing eyes he yells on top of his lungs at Ares.

“Coirpre?” I move to touch him. Unexpected, he roughly swats my hand—so much that it really stuns me as well. With a balled fist he shooed my hand away, sending jolting pain around my hand.

“… Oi,” Ares catches his hand.

Coirpre snatches it back roughly. “... In the end that’s all you’ll do, isn’t it?”

I exchange glances with Ares.

“Talk to me here, junior rabbit,” Ares finally breaks the silence. “Let’s have a manly chat.”

“I don’t want a manly chat!” suddenly he yells. “I want to be strong! _Shit_ —why am I the only one having to struggle like this?! You’re strong, Coach N, what do you know?! And you’re an adult. That already makes you cool by default, doesn’t it? Why am I always left behind? It’s like nothing I do ever feels right. They keep saying bad things about me, about my sister… and no matter how much I try to excel at school, Ced will always top over me. Even when I get to score better than he does, nothing ever matters because each time I go back they’ll be there—again, saying the same cruel things and I have to swallow it all alone—what do you know?”

I press my hand against my mouth, muffling a gasp. What... is actually happening to… Coirpre? Has this been going around forever? So school is like… torture to him? And what is this about cruel things ‘they’ kept throwing at Coirpre? Who are these ‘they’ again…?

“If you’d just—you’d just agree to teach me karate so I can defend myself better,” his voice breaks in his throat. “And now that I fought back, you’re going to take that away from me as well, Coach N?”

Ares crouches. And inhales… “… Are they bullying you?”

“Gods!” I can’t help but mumbling it, horrified. S-so… so my suspicion all along is proven… true?

Coirpre isn’t answering.

“You want my answer, don’t you, Coirpre?” Ares looks into his eyes again. “So give me yours.”

“… They called me all things you can think of,” he grumbles, averting his eyes from mine. “If only I could answer. I don’t—I don’t know why my mother left me, you know?!”

I feel like the ground is breaking under me and someone just slapped me so hard that I time-traveled between the real world and the dream land. T-this isn’t real. This isn’t…

“They said my sister is a slut. Call girl. Bimbo. I didn’t know what those meant. I Googled it,” he murmurs. “Got disciplined for looking at explicit pictures at the school’s computer lab. But hey, at least I know.”

“I’m not…!” balling my fists at my sides, my defense is crumbling into pieces. I take pride in my dances. And I’ve never done that exactly because I want people to appreciate me and the art I’m doing. It’s just those odd hours because often times the places which hired me are clubs or independent theaters! If I fall into the same toxic pattern—how am I going to face my mother again when we reunite? How am I going to live up to her name and reputation? How am I going t-to…

“Well, I’m sorry, because I thought saying you’re a dancer is enough!” Coirpre hisses at me. “That’s the thing, you know? If only those assholes would just take the answer! Your peace-loving solution did jackshit, Lene, and if I was trained perhaps they’d stop at the first blue eye, who knows?!”

I’m glued where I stand. Yet at the same time I feel like I can fall anytime.

“Yeah, sure, if I could eat, that would be nice,” he smiles wryly. “If they didn’t just pick on me everyday, either throwing my lunch into the trash or taking it for themselves or dousing it with toilet water. Or saying it smells disgusting like dog shit.”

I think I make a sound because Ares tilts his head at me.

“And we don’t have much money. I don’t want to make you replace what they broke every time… oh, right, because that happens everyday,” Coirpre keeps sneering. “So I need to seek other means. And sure, why would you keep cooking if those lunches would end up at the bin again—“ he takes a breath. “But what do you know, Coach N? You’re saying I shouldn’t fight. Why? Only you can? Because you’re strong? Because I’m a wimpy kid with no muscles who can only whimper each time they beat me up? Because I’m a half-baked nerd whose grades aren’t as good as Ced’s? Because physical education is my worst subject that I’m a laughing stock in the entire world?! So yeah—no, thanks.”

“… Junior rabbit.”

“I want to be alone,” he sniffs. “It’s not like you understand anyway. Again, you’re strong.”

“Coirpre…”

“Don’t worry, Lene, I’ll have my own money soon so you don’t need to provide for me anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Coirpre merely waves at me.

“Coirpre—I’m talking to you!”

“Why don’t you dance well and bring Mom back home?”

T-that’s enough. That’s…

“Coirpre Edda Bragi, hold on for a second.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know I’m kicked out of the team. Don’t worry, Coach N.”

“What did I tell you at home? You disrespected your sister—again.”

Coirpre stops.

“I don’t know your parents, but they love you very much.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Neither you nor Lene is responsible for whatever situation which drove your mother to leave.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You want proof, no?” Ares approaches him. “You’re alive.”

“Did you steal your lines out of action movies or something?” he grumbles.

“And how are you protecting your sister—shunning her, even after knowing people said these false things about her?” Ares folds his arms. “That’s what you call being a man? Abandoning your family?”

“Rich, coming from a blackbelt.”

“And what was a blackbelt before he gets to be a blackbelt?”

“… I don’t know,” Coirpre mumbles.

“Brown belt,” Ares responds. “And before that…”

“There’s… more?”

“Oh, there _are_ more, alright,” Ares looks at him. “You know the color everyone starts with? White.”

“… White?”

“That’s right. Imagine all these colors get to mix, forming the black belt you’re fawning over. A black belt gets to be that color because it’s made up of various, various steps of perilous journey,” Ares contemplates on his fist. “And you will sweat. Get injured. Cry—“

“… Cry?”

“Of course. And it’s only the beginning.”

“There are… higher black belts?”

“Oh, there are. Even then there are other blackbelts of various arts with incredible capability.”

“Feh. Still. Your parents must be proud of you—“

“I don’t know about it,” Ares looks at him again. “Because one was close to death while the other was so exhausted she barely moved while I sold the art for money, leaving the house exactly right when my mother needed me. Many times I ignored her calling on me. Many times she asked why I got bruises on my face; cuts on my arms. Many times as a child I woke up feeling so sure it would be the last time to see my mother again because she was so frail and weak and there was nothing, nothing I could do to prevent it. Many times she kept telling me not to think of anything because as long as she could make an effort to get it, I’d get it. Many times I questioned my father for being engrossed at work serving a person who hardly batted an eye at his own well-being. Many times I thought my father was selfish for training me, telling me to protect my mother while he…”

I touch his arm.

“… So I don’t know, junior rabbit,” he shrugs. “But if you ask me about eating out of fast food restaurant’s trash can on a White Christmas—then I know.”

Coirpre pauses. “That’s… your Christmas present?”

“Yeah?” Ares chuckles bitterly. “At twenty.”

“And prior to that—“

“I don’t recall. Going vigil by my frail mother’s bed because those times made the coldest days of the season and my father’s work tended to pile up during those times?”

“C-Coach N.”

“… Then you have your sister,” Ares looks at me now. “Who knows what you like and what you don’t. Who is willing to starve as long as you get to eat, working hard that you’re ashamed of just to give you what other kids have. Who fends for herself there, wishing nothing but the best for you.”

“And—you?”

“I have anger and only anger.”

“… Hnnn.”

“That’s why I don’t want you to…” suddenly he crouches, ruffling Coirpre’s hair. “… Your sister is right, Coirpre. There are too many lone wolves and doomed mercenaries—the world can use healing. It’s not that I deem you incapable—if you want to hold greater power, you need to be better than this.”

“… And you’re disappointed of me.”

“Definitely. But I trust that you’re a good kid.”

Coirpre pauses. And suddenly he runs away, tearing his hand off Ares’.

“Coirpre!”

“Let him,” Ares speaks gently to me. “Let’s seat you somewhere else too.”

“I don’t…” I clutch on him. “I—I never thought…”

“It’s alright, rabbit,” he rubs my back. “It’s not your fault. It really isn’t.”

“H-how are you… sure?” my voice croaks like a toad now. This hurts. This really hurts. Coirpre is indeed hurting and there’s nothing I can do to prevent it from happening. After all these times of shielding him from the world, after everything I’ve done, in the end life touched us. But then again it may end up touching us all—regardless of the maturing process and all that, does everything have to be… like this? “I—I failed him, right? J-just like how I’ve been dreading for. In the end… I just…”

“You did not fail anyone.”

“H-how can a lion demon say something so nice like this?” I reply innocently, my hands are trembling because of everything I try to contain in my chest. “Y-you heard him too…”

He pauses. Looking at me, suddenly he holds my hand… his lips part into a kind, kind reassuring smile, but his eyes are firm, determined and burning with confidence. “Because you’re a good sister.”

“No way—“

“Yes way,” he squeezes my hand. “Above all, he’s just frustrated because he wants to pay back everything you do to this little family of yours. … A strong, close-knit resilient _warm_ family.”

“Hnnn. But Ares, I’ve never…”

“Exactly because you’ve never asked, Lene. He’s just a kid but he understands that everything isn’t as simple as it seems. He just wants you to be happy, as much as you want him to be too.”

“… You sound so sure.”

“Well, we had a manly talk?” he chuckles a little bit, prompting me to pout… in a rather cute manner, actually. Ish! I mean—w-well…

“Maybe it’s time to say goodbye to little Coirpre,” I smile sadly.

“No. He’ll still be the Coirpre you know and he won’t forget you,” Ares searches his pocket. “My turn?”

H-his handkerchief…

“Hnnn—“

“Let it out.”

“… And you?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Really?”

“… Just like how you’re always there when…” suddenly he stops, shaking his head.

“Huh? Eh… Ares?”

“… I don’t dare,” why, he looks rather sad when saying that? “There’s a limit of what a demon can wish.”

“Hnnn? You’ve got a wish?” I’m tempted to tick his nose somehow.

“Probably,” he chuckles again… “… Brazen, aren’t I?”

Brazen? N-no. I want to tell him that—no, he’s so kind like this. Brazen what? Why do you look so sad as well? “Then what is it that you wish for?” I look at him.

He looks at me back. “Well, folk stories say if you hope something so badly it’s better to be kept tightly in your heart, no?” he smiles a little.

“Really? It’s actually the opposite, you know. You should say it proudly, because the universe may conspire to help you get it!” shaking my head, I huff. “So what is it that you want, Ares, meow~?”

“I don’t dare.”

“Don’t dare doing what, trying out parfait?”

“More than parfait.”

“… Fighting parfait?” I clasp my chin.

“That’s violence,” his laughter nearly explodes right under my eyes. Huh? Not even parfait? This is strange. I want to ask for more, but we hear something rustling behind us, followed by whispers. We turn around at the same time, finding Tinny and Ced who tumble against each other on the grassy surface of the field.

“I told you we need to wait a little bit, they’re about to kiss!”

“… Kiss? But this can’t wait. Exactly because both coaches are here, so—“

“Ced, you’re so dumb!”

“Hey, Tinny? Hey—my God, what did I do?”

“Well, Ced?” I try so hard not to chuckle because right now we need to be adults. “There’s no kiss here.”

“Ahaha, y-yeah, my apologies about that. It’s Coirpre…” he seats himself between us, and the story comes out. The drills they did together and everything. Apparently Ced has been wanting to speak to Ares today, but circumstances and Coirpre’s exploding anger halted it. Like me, he’s been rather suspicious of Coirpre because lately he gets so tired—sometimes even before they got to do the drilling Coirpre asked him. How he found Coirpre alone at the corridor at times, and sometimes out at the field. How Coirpre would leave the practice early or choose to seat himself at the substitute players’ bench. But each time they walk together, nothing ever happened, so Ced did not want to pry, thinking my brother was just being in a bad mood.

“… Seems there’s more to this then…” I respond, and Ares nods slowly beside me.

“We drilled, yes,” Ced says. “But it’s nothing excessive because I was there when we did these things. I was just about to ask, Coach Bragi—if Coirpre had a weak heart or something, because I don’t want to put him in danger, of course,” he pensively stares at the ground. “I didn’t know he was bullied that badly. I already sensed he’d get picked on, being a studious new kid and everything. But then he joined the team, so I thought…”

He clutches on my blouse.

“… I’m sorry, Coach Bragi. I truly am sorry. I should have been… able to tell…”

“It’s alright, Ced,” I pat his back. “Nobody wants to suspect their friends of anything. I understand.”

“I want to take him hanging out with me. I figured those bullies wouldn’t touch him if they saw us as friends,” Ced fidgets. Right, no matter what he’s still a child too… “But it seems Coirpre thinks he’s being pitied. There were days when he’d join me and Tinny eating lunches at the cafeteria, though.”

“Yes! We often get pizza,” Tinny chirps. “And he paid.”

“… Paid?” I look at her. “That’s—um, I don’t always give Coirpre pocket money because he takes lunchboxes and we use cards to commute by train.” Hnnn, now I understand the feeling. Like, you know you’re poor, you’re aware it may cause people to be… not nice to you, but often times you still don’t realize it until the very situation happens to you. And often times it doesn’t have to be other people blatantly insulting you. It’s those little moments when you realize you won’t have what other people have simply because if you can allocate money for pleasure, you’d rather keep them for the essentials!

“He thanked us for hanging out with him, I suppose,” Ced shrugs. “So we didn’t think of anything.”

“See, Coach Bragi, the funny thing is I wouldn’t even need that. We’re friends, right? I’m not doing anything special, it’s just called hanging out,” Tinny stretches her legs.

“Would you tell him that I looked for him?” Ced returns his attention to me. “Gotta make sure he’s okay.”

“Of course, sure,” my mind is blank and full at the same time now. “Be careful on the way home!”

Now that Ced and Tinny have left, I’m alone with Ares again. Ares excuses himself to take care of certain things, he said—which I guess dealing with those bullies. H-he makes sure I’m really alright, though. So I sit on the bench again while he returns to the class, contemplating whether I should just wait for Coirpre, look for him, or head home to let him have some manly-grieving time like he wants. Sigh.

About fifteen minutes or so after Ares left me, I feel my phone vibrating in my bag. Taking it out at an instant, the vibration stops, and I’m so close to pocketing it back thinking it’s just more Instagram notifications which I’ve been shunning for a while—when the screen reveals something else.

… It’s Coirpre.

It’s Coirpre! Did he call me?

I quickly drag my feet back to the class to find Ares, my heel knocks against the floor impatiently waiting for him to pick up.

He does.

… And suddenly the phone is turned off.

I frown reading the automated text which just arrived—can’t talk, it says.

… Can’t?

I arrive at the class. It’s eerily silent that I can’t help but peeking inside. The three strikers stand motionless before Ares, who isn’t at all yelling but judging from those boys’ pale, white-frightened faces like dead bodies, Ares must have said something nerve-wrecking to discipline them.

Ares catches my face peeking in, and at the moment I don’t really recall what he says to the bully trio. “It’s Coirpre,” I whisper to him, and he springs out of the class as alert as a hunting lion. “He gave me a missed-call. Couldn’t be called back. Then he said he couldn’t talk,” I race his long strands.

“Text or call?”

“Text?” … just then I gasp. “Y-you don’t think that he…”

“Try reaching him back,” his voice is comforting. “We don’t know anything yet.”

… And then I have an idea. “Maybe you should do it.”

“You’re the sister.”

“He thinks of you as a brother—“ I quickly clam my mouth shut because for some reason it sounds… rather intimate that I don’t want to freak him out. “… You’re the coach.”

Ares pauses, but he does it anyway. Drawing his phone out of his jeans pocket, he dials Coirpre’s number. His expression is stern and pretty intense—so he’s worried? He’s worried but deciding to be the rock so I don’t get panicked?

He doesn’t need to tell me that there’s no answer from the other side because he quickly taps the phone, opening messaging feature and types as fast as he can.

 _Coirpre, hungry? Grab spicy udon with me?_  
_I’m still proud of you. That was a nice shot._

Ares straddles on Mystletainn like he’s ready to ignite it on a quick command while my eyes are glued on his phone. But Coirpre doesn’t reply…

Ares tightens his gloves. And suddenly my phone vibrates again.

“Coirpre?!”

“Sis?”

His voice is so, so soft that it sends chill down my spine somehow.

“Baby?”

“Can you come get me?”

I clutch on Ares. He tilts his head at me, his palm resting on my shoulder like he’s transferring his strength to me. T-that actually kind of worked. “Where are you, dear?”

“Con…”

“Coirpre?”

“Conote… Res…”

“Conote? Coirpre?”

“I—gotta go.”

The line dies.

“H-he said…” I turn at Ares now.

“I heard,” he nods. “Conote Restaurant?”

Restaurant? Conote Restaurant—Raydrik Conote’s restaurant?! The scandalous man who got AMA’d on Reddit by his own former staff—this Mareeta girl I read about some days ago? “Oh—dear—God,” I mumble again, feeling like my heart is going to fall at any given moment. And suddenly everything makes sense now, revisiting all the puzzles one by one like this. The search history I saw at the library. Weird messages Coirpre got on Instagram.

“Something the matter?”

“Oh, dear gods—Ares, he’s probably working at Conote!” I clasp my hands together. “Yes! It’s clear now. T-then… oh, no, he’s been bullied even when I got to meet you at the library for the first time!”

“… So that’s what concerned you,” he responds. “Hop on, Lene. We’ll drop by Master Cakes a bit.”

“Ares, I don’t need a cake! I want to get Coirpre out of there!” my face reddens.

“So do I, but a cake will be nice, no?”

Huh?

I don’t have time to debate him. Hopping behind him, he races the road again, honking hard at a car which I then recognize as Scipio’s luxurious sports car. “Move it, broken condom!” he bellows ferociously at Scipio, who pales to the bones upon hearing the lion roar like that.

“God,” I softly pinch his ribs.

“If he could call you names, I can too,” he smirks a little. In no time we arrive at Master Cakes, now crowded by evening shoppers especially those suited people working for business magnates’ towers who just got out of their offices. A green-haired lady in pigtail is on the last row when we get in, facing one of the triplets who operate the counter like a robot because they’re so pro at everything.

“Yes, twenty donuts. It’s for Mr. Frelia, so you know…” the lady smiles tenderly. “I’m here for the down payment. In cash this time.” She tilts her head at Ares. “Oh, you. The junior urban planner. Ares, isn’t it?”

Ares nods courteously at her. “Ma’am.”

“Ares?” one of the triplets waves at us. “What a surprise. Why, your dad wants some cakes?”

“Hi, Uncle Alva,” Ares smiles at him. “Are my aunt and uncle here?”

“Mister Finn just arrived,” the behind-counter person Ares just chats up with replies. “Why don’t you just come in? Come on! Ah dear boy, usually you don’t want to get near the ovens.”

“Umm…” I don’t know what I should do. What should I do again?

“Come on,” Ares nudges me gently. “She’s with me, Uncle Alva.”

“Hmmm?” the triplet looks at me. “Miss Lachesis!! It’s Ares with a lady!”

“What?”

This is the first time I get to see my cake idol in person! Lachesis Nordion stands before me. She has the trademark Nordion blond hair on her, and she has that gentle but unyielding demeanor about her which says _cross me and I bake you alive._ S-somehow. Maybe it’s not nice to leer at your friend’s aunt like that, b-but I mean. She’s formidable!! And her dress is cute pink!

Lachesis Nordion has that _undefeatable mischievous_ look on her when she sees Ares. “Hello, baby cub, meow. My Bavarian donuts are ready.”

“Have mercy on me, Auntie Lach.”

“Oh, you won’t die, alright. And even if you do, you’re going to sugar heaven. Heheheh. Come, little Ares. Don’t disappoint your aunt. Say hi to your losing mother…”

“Not again, Lachesis.”

“Ish, darling. What’s a nephew for if not to be trolled?”

A blue-haired man walks out from the kitchen. Now I know him—Finn from Master Cakes I saw a couple of times when I was here with my friends. “Hello, Ares,” he pats the lion on the shoulder. “With a company? Or here as an acting ambassador for Eldigan’s sweet tooth?”

“I’d need to get something out of Conote Restaurant,” Ares turns around, smirking at me. “I was wondering if I could leave my rabbit here? I want to buy two of those Bavarian donuts as well.”

I yank his mullet. And gasp out of reflex. I just did that before his aunt and uncle!! Hooo God. B-but unexpected to me, Lachesis Nordion shoots starry-glares at me, like she’s so giddy when she saw that! “Uh—ummm…” I fidget with my blouse. My face truly is this ^^;;; emoji right now!

“Right. So that’s how it is,” Ares nods then. “I don’t know if I could get the little rabbit in peace.”

“… You’re going to fight, is that what you’re saying?” Lachesis folds her arms. “Ares—“

“I won’t do anything stupid, Auntie Lach.”

“And that way you think you don’t?” she gives Ares the Look. Hnnn? It seems Conote’s unethical business practice even earns him a sincere… enemy, even from the Master Cakes!

“Is this man… uh, evil or something?” I finally speak out.

“Oooh, dear lord. Yes,” Finn is the one answering. “He’s cunning. Back then he’s known to drive people homeless for screwing properties. And rumors say he takes underage workers and treat them like slaves because that way he can’t be bothered to pay full wage and benefits.”

Coirpre’s search results flash in my mind.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, Sir, but…” finally I let it out. About Coirpre. And the disturbing AMA section on Reddit by Mareeta. Everything…

Lachesis exchanges glances with Finn. “I guess she needs chocolate,” she says then. “Can you, Alva?”

“Sure, Miss Lachesis.”

“Um—“

“Oh, it’s on the house,” Lachesis sets a beautiful cup of chocolate to me. I can’t believe it. I’m at Master Cakes’ magnificent kitchen with everything that is good being baked around me. I’m sitting with Ares, occupying a cute small wooden table with his aunt and uncle and they even got me chocolate! “I suppose you don’t know anything…”

I shake my head.

“That girl. Back then her supervisor was Brigid, right, Finn?” Lachesis nudges her husband. “Conote lost a footing after she left. Now that Edain is a practicing doctor, the café is on her. But yeah—that’s all Brigid wanted to do, protecting little Mareeta from employer abuse. And Conote cunningly pitted them against each other. That way if legal action is taken, the one who suffered the most would be Brigid, considering technically she was made to hire Mareeta in the work force.”

“And that café is Tirnanog,” Ares adds, chuckling a little noticing my surprised expression. Of course I’m surprised! I’ve never met Tirnanog boss in person, but I didn’t even know if the Jungbys own it! So Lester technically helps his aunt by working there? Ooooh my God. I bet even Fee doesn’t know this!

“That place troubled our family when Master Cakes barely started,” Ares adds. “Tried juggling prices, for example, when Aunt Lachesis got this building. Intimidation tactics—“

“Bet that one didn’t work,” I smirk at him. Ares raises his eyebrows—in a sheepish manner.

“And during those times I got close with Altena,” he clears his throat. “Her father is a paralegal who happens to be my mother’s old friend from college. And who would have thought Uncle Finn was his employee before businesses took a wild turn with Chagall and the Velthomer Enterprise? Long story short, this is old grudge. My elders here banded together just to keep him at a bay like that.”

Wow. Interesting! A-and… wew, his story is rooted much deeper than I thought!

“That’s why I want to leave you here, Lene. They have some tough-looking folks who easily get suspicious when approached,” Ares concludes then. “… I’d like you to be safe.”

“But Coirpre is my brother, Ares,” I shake my head with resolve burning in my eyes. “I can’t let you do everything for us alone. And definitely I won’t leave him in times of dire.”

There’s a pause until Lachesis parts her lips into a faint smile. “… That’s the fiercest rabbit I’ve ever seen.”

“… Auntie Lach.”

“What, my cub?” she chuckles, yanking Ares’ mullet in the same manner I just did. H-hnnnhhh! Reaching the counter, she throws something at Ares. “Yeah, take my car. I’ll tell Grahnye you cake-taste here.”

“Ma’am—“ I look at her. “Ooh, thank you!! Truly, thank you!!”

“Should I lend her my sword or anything?”

“S… sword?”

“Yeah? The semi-automatic rifle is being cleaned upstairs!”

H-huh? Wew. But see, I know she’s a formidable woman. Literally. S-sigh. Are the Nordions… human?

Lachesis stands up, followed by Finn. In a rather emotional way suddenly she reaches for Ares, who conveniently bows so his aunt can reach him. “You’ve grown so much,” she whispers, like she just managed to take a good look of him. “Back then each time you were here, you’d be… angry. Now look at you calmly telling us to protect your friend after promising me not to do something stupid.”

“… I guess that’s why you’d always return me home with a bunch of sweets,” he replies. His voice is tender and calming, and suddenly he envelops his small aunt into a bear hug. “I’m sorry for making you and Uncle Finn worried sick. I feel much better now, Auntie Lach,” just then his eyes linger on me. Eeeh? And he’s smiling too! Oh, perhaps he’s smiling at his aunt.

“I’ll call Quan,” Ares’ uncle suddenly announces.

“Then I’m off,” Ares nods. “Sorry for troubling you, Auntie Lach. Come on, Lene.”

“Ah—yes! Umm…”

Lachesis smiles at me. It’s powerful and calming at the same time, and I can’t resist to smile back at her. Ares is already holding the door for me while the unsuspecting buyers look at us, some are pretty curious because we got out from the kitchen.

“Ares?” she says when he’s already by the door.

“Yeah?”

“… Don’t try to out-Eldie the Eldie. First of all you’ll fail.”

“I know, Auntie Lach,” Ares grins. “My father is peerless and…”

“No, silly boy. Because you’re not Eldie. You’re you—you can be better than Eldie.”

“… Auntie Lach.”

“He’s embarrassed,” Lachesis smirks at me again. “Always been like that since he was just a wee cub.”

“He’s still a cute cub,” chuckling, I nod out of reflex. Right when I consider smothering myself dead Lachesis’ pleasant laughter is out of the cage. Aaaa—

“Lene, isn’t it?”

“Ah—yes!! And… ummm—sorry…”

“Drop by again next time?” she winks.

I run to catch up with a sheepish Ares, who navigates his legs to retrieve Lachesis’ car from the garage. Ares ignites the machine, and I quickly hop into the passenger seat next to him. He drives smoothly, prompting my mind to linger on the thought of his initial again. Black Knight… perhaps even if it _has_ to fit, it only does when he’s angry. But then again he doesn’t get angry for nothing. There is no trace of… I don’t know—traits of a delinquent. There’s no useless explosive emotion or road rage or anything. It’s just Ares. The cub who is loved by his family and treasures them just as much. The one who is eager to lend a helping hand without thinking much…

Ares parks the car about a building away from the restaurant. It’s pretty empty—who knows what’s inside because unlike the warm, welcoming atmosphere of Master Cakes and the familiarity it brings with the beautiful smell of baked goodies, the Conote building is like what people think of Raydrik Conote himself—cold and suspicious! Those offices in metropolitan area such as Valni Tower, which faces Master Cakes, tend to use gray colors for their decoration, but this building is supposed to be a restaurant. At least on the first floor. W-well, I don’t really care what they’re doing there, but speaking of textbook comic villain…

“Stay inside,” he says. “If anything happens—anything, tell me.”

I nod, feeling so nervous so suddenly. Why is he so careful? It’s not going to… evolve into an action movie-like situation, right? … I hope? God, the idea of him brawling there itself makes me nervous.

“… Ares?”

“Ah. Yeah?”

“Umm. B-be careful, alright?” I don’t want to sound demure—and yet…

“Sure,” he spares a reassuring smile before exiting the car. I see him going inside the building. And I wait. I wait and wait. It really feels like forever and I don’t see anyone coming outside. Well, a couple of suited folks come out, but there’s no sight of Ares or Coirpre so far. It’s so tempting to get out and check! What if something happens to him?

… But he told me to wait. I don’t want the unsavory individuals there use me as a leverage against Ares, the way the thugs at the Yied did! I should be mindful of him too…

It’s so tempting to play with my phone just to ease the tension, but I feel like if I take my eyes off Conote, then I’ll be missing anything important I probably should see. There’s about like fifteen minutes or so with Ares being nowhere to be seen, until I decide to take my phone out and record in case something happens. I fixate my eyes on the building. And my phone. The building. My phone. And…

I hear soft knocking. Like—on the window, at the seat I’m occupying.

And just like that I scream out of reflex.

I search for everything—everything I can use to defend myself. Steer lock seems pretty heavy; I should be able to jam someone’s head with it. So I turn around…

… Oh my God. T-the small figure and face knocking on my door…

“Coirpre!!” I quickly let the window down. R-right, it’s Coirpre! Oh, God, it’s him!! He’s bouncing near me, so I get out. In no time he’s back in my arms, clutching on me tightly, tightly, like a scaredy cat. He sobs. And so do I.

“I’m sorry—“ he whispers, and I waste no time drowning him in my embrace. From the other side I see Ares is back, smiling, looking so pleased that _I_ am pleased to see Coirpre not lacking anything.

“Do not scare me like that again,” I murmur, my tears flowing out uncontrollably. “You hear me?!”

“Yes!” he bawls this time, clutching on me tightly. “C-can I sit with you? I was scared. I was so scared.”

“Get in the back, Coirpre, or Ares can’t drive,” I ruffle his hair softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“A-and I won’t either,” he sobs, blowing his nose into my blouse. I don’t care. I don’t…

“Well?” Ares circles the car with his hands in his pocket. His tone is firm, but his gaze sympathetic.

“I—I worked there, y-yes,” Coirpre mutters in between the sobs. “I—just—I just wanted t-to help…”

“And that’s why you’re tired all the time,” Ares responds—his tone is flat, but that pierces deep because Coirpre fidgets, looking down at the ground.

“Y-yes.”

“Not because you drilled with Ced or studied.”

“T-that’s… true.”

“How many hours did they make you do? How much did you make?”

Coirpre mumbles something. And Ares keeps his swearing under the breath. “You’re played.”

“I—thought it was—money.”

“Yeah. Shitty money. Now you see why your sister is concerned for you? It’s not about being incapable. It’s not about being untrustworthy. But because we—ahem—she—knows that something’s not right.”

“And that’s why I’m your older sister and the adult in the house,” adding, I stroke his face softly. “Let’s take it easy. There will be a time when you _have_ to help me, I’m certain of it.”

“Come on. First I’ll take you to my aunt. Then I’ll get you home,” Ares opens the back door.

Coirpre pauses.

“What’s the matter?” I ask gently then.

“Are you… mad at me, Coach N?” Coirpre asks, his voice is so soft like he’s whispering. “I keep disappointing you, don’t I? I’ve been wanting to tell them to quit, but each time I got there, they…”

“… Intimidated you. Classic,” Ares has that sad look again, perhaps remembering the Yied…

“They said I only belong there. No other place will accept me because I’m unwanted. I’m nobody’s child.”

“… That’s a lie.”

“C-Coach N?”

“… I know that it’s a lie now,” he says, his voice being so, so tender as he slowly looks at me… “Because I recall someone else told me the same thing. And I can’t thank her enough for that.” Just when I thought I'd lose my cheeks for burning so badly, he adds. "You're not nobody's child. You are your mother's child."

“I—know I have to get out,” Coirpre whispers. “B-because I might get sent to children custody, right? I—don’t want to be separated from Lene. I don’t want to stop playing soccer and not see you again—“

“So the nightmare…” … oh, gods. Oh, dear gods, my baby brother. You’re suffering a lot, aren’t you…

“A-and when you nursed my legs back to health, somehow I had hope,” Coirpre mumbles again. “And then that time when you spoke to me at the field, y-your text and everything…”

“I said I’m still proud of you.”

“I bet y-you’re not so proud now,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry, Coach N. I’m s-so…”

“… And didn’t you remember I said anything else?” Ares crouches, clasping Coirpre's shoulders with his own hands. “When you had the nightmare? What did I say?”

“… Y-you won’t let me be separated from Lene.”

“Exactly. And I fulfilled what I said.”

… Oh, dear gods. Ares— _my_ Ares, my lion— …

“H-hnnn.”

“I’m proud of you still,” Ares ruffles Coirpre’s hair. “It takes a lot to stand up to something powerful and you just did. To the bullies. To Conote. To not ruin your friendship with Ced while drilling yourself. Congratulations, junior rabbit—for being a warrior in the making.”

“W-warrior!”

“… I’ll teach you how to breathe,” he says then. “Because it’s the first step to build up power.”

“Oh! D-do you mean…”

“I’m saying breathing technique,” he quickly retorts. “Don’t count your chickens before the eggs hatch. If you can breathe properly, you can utilize your strength and this way you can rival the strikers.”

“But they are… squad aces, Coach.”

Ares pauses. And he shakes his head, his hand flying on top of Coirpre’s head. “A bully is not an ace.”

Coirpre gasps. And Ares acts taciturn, looking incredibly embarrassed because we—ahem, yeah, we, darn it!—look at him in a not-so-subtle adoring manner. Well, gods be damned, damn me more too while we’re at it b-because he’s—

“… Coach N?”

“Yeah?” Ares pats his back. “Oi, are you going to get in the car or not?”

“Thank you! You’re so cool!”

My giggles are let loose seeing Ares gasp, looking so incredibly awkward when Coirpre jumps into his arms for a hug. But what really got me in the feels is that after the awkward-shocked phase is over, Ares wraps his arms around Coirpre, hugging him back—so much that my little brother sniffs, sobbing into his chest. I’m so glad that he hugs back. A-and… and he… h-he hugs back. H-he hugs Coirpre. H-he…

“It’s alright,” Ares rubs his hand over Coirpre’s back, again and again while Coirpre sobs and sobs. “I’ll drive you. I and your sister will get you home. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore. Come on.”

I tilt my head when he takes the driver’s seat. Drawing the seat belt across my body, his handkerchief is still clutched tightly in my hands, and neither of us says anything even after he locks the doors for us.

“You alright?”

I glance at the back seat—Coirpre is understandably asleep, for being so exhausted and mentally drained like that. Drying my own tears with his handkerchief, I turn to face him. “I've never felt this fine either.”

He chuckles. “I’ve never had a kid crying on me.”

“I’m sorry for…”

Ares glances at the back seat. And suddenly the balcony leonine smirk emerges again… “Do I need to put you in a wristlock again?”

H-his voice is so deep, deep and husky, prompting me to sigh, sigh so defeated as crimson shades audaciously emerge on my cheeks. S-such an alleged human. S-such a kind, kind, endearingly handsome alleged human. Such a lion. Such a cub. Such… Ares.

I pull him in closer. He doesn’t protest or refuse; instead letting the car key dangling without igniting it. He’s smiling… and gone is the raw leonine smirk I saw on him seconds prior. There’s only tender kindness there and nothing more. “Umm…”

“… Yes?”

Again, his voice is soft. Softer than soft, perhaps. Like a tease… no, encouragement.

He still doesn’t move. And neither do I. If anything, I take his arm onto me. And…

“Hnnn. Are we there yet, Sis?”

I stop. My face feels like burning, and he chuckles, igniting the car to start driving.

* * *

****

**_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Ares, thank you again for…_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Sssh._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You can’t lock my wrists. We’re texting >:3_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Still no need._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… How did you do it?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Retrieving Coirpre?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Mm-hmm?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Told them I got them recorded._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hahaha, in action movie protagonist-style? ^^_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Most probably._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Seriously? :O_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _That mullet gentleman from Valni said it, though—work smart, he said._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You seem to quite like him._

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I’m thinking of dropping my CV._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Oooh, Ares!!_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Oops sorry for sounding so ecstatic heheheee it’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything, right? ^^;;; Omg. But really though, I was just so happy for you! =^^=_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Some things are probably open for a change._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Huh?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… Ah, nothing. OOOO THE OPPONENT CHANGED TACTIC—_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _You’re watching TV?_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I’m watching a MMA fight with my dad._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… Oh._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
And texting you too_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _And breathing_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I mean—_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
You previously said you have ice cream flavors you like >:)_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Ah. Yeah. Yeah, I do._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Exampleeee~!_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Matcha. Dark chocolate with mint._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Heheee sounds like you can be dragged to an ice cream parlor? ^^V_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I can. When?_


	13. Rawr! ... Meow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I am so truly verily sorry this update takes long. I paused Allegedly to catch up with Mistletoe, so here goes~! With this one out, we are only ONE (... hopefully...) chapter short for this fanfict to reach its conclusion! Short note regarding Reinhardt's last name, yeah, I went full German with this one. To my knowledge Donner means thunder. I also misunderstood Kaga's note regarding Ced and Fee, so I thought Ced was the younger because he is Forseti's dragon child. Apparently in-game Ced is the older... I'm so sorry.
> 
> Again, I am truly sorry for the long chapter. I really did not want to make it this long, but then there are the soccer matches which is part of a shared arc between Coirpre and Ares, so... ^^;; good God, now I wish I could fistfight sports-writing x))
> 
> Since the page numbers pile up exceeding my expectation, the Art Night will have to be put in the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you for understanding! And thank you greatly for reading and following this one! u_u

I really, really, feel so well-rested when I wake up this morning! Actually, I did not even realize that I fell asleep in Coirpre’s room after tucking in him to bed. He did not say much when we finally got to leave Conote, and I was equally too exhausted—both physically and mentally to do anything else that we ordered pizza instead of cooking dinner.

Ares drove us back to Master Cakes. And there I met another person—Altena’s father as well as a friend and former employer of Master Cakes’ Finn, the Quan they briefly mentioned while I was there. He was more than concerned upon hearing Conote troubled us, but if there is something I appreciate, it is how he chose not to fault Coirpre instead—he even said that if Raydrik was about to sue either Coirpre or Ares, he would be glad to give a pro-bono legal assistance. He believed it would not happen, though, considering Raydrik technically could be jailed because he hired underage workers.

We—Coirpre and I—were still silent not knowing what to do because to be honest, what I cared about around that time simply taking Coirpre back home and pampered him because of the traumatic experience. Clutching Coirpre’s hand tightly in mine I refused Lachesis Nordion’s offer saying Ares could just use her car to drive us home instead of having the three of us juggling spaces on Mystletainn.

I owe Ares so much… so definitely I do not want to trouble him more than I already did…

He offered to drive us to the most convenient train station, though. Hnnn—even after everything, Ares is still Ares! Not only that he truly drove us, before we got to catch the train he checked on Coirpre, massaging his ankles and thighs so that Coirpre could walk better. He even seriously asked if they hurt him, and after holding my breath in what felt like forever, Coirpre shook his head.

I really could not resist myself not to envelop Coirpre in a hug after that. Ares even offered if he should carry Coirpre to the line, and sheepishly told me if I accepted, then I had to wait on him a little bit to purchase a ticket because he did not commute—only riding Mystletainn so far so he did not have a card like us.

I turned down his offer. We parted ways when I took Coirpre to the metal door which fenced commuters from other people. He only got to leave when he saw us walking into a cart—waving at me.

… Everything feels so… warm. He truly tries to be decent and proper, and somehow this is quite funny because technically it reminds me of the first night I met him—how I wanted to race him to the station, fearing he might jump over the metal door to get me. And some months after he was there, rehearsing the scene, and I have no need to question his… ahem, gallantry, I suppose, because again and again he proved himself to be a decent man.

… What differentiated the then and the now the most is—I think—how this time I do not even mind.

When we got home, Coirpre was practically glued to me for the rest of the day. He did not even make any comment when I said I would just order pizza—and definitely not Lionheart Kitchen so Ares did not have to ride back and forth just for us.

And this morning, I wake up to Coirpre cuddling on me. He looks so peaceful, so relieved, so… s-so Coirpre… the Coirpre I’ve dearly missed, the Coirpre I do know…

“I didn’t have a nightmare,” he said, folding his blanket in a rather bashful manner. Perhaps for clutching on me despite being twelve instead of five, but I know from his face that he did not regret it.

“That is good,” I ruffle his hair. “Now you need to wake up because we both slept so soundly that it’s like seven-thirty in the morning.”

“Oh gods,” he shoots me a wary look. I watch him taking himself off the bed, opening his closet to drag his shirt, pants, and undergarments. He pauses a little before a certain drawer. Sensing his doubt, I take myself off the bed as well, approaching him. Gently, gently. We both are hurt—perhaps we will need to have a heartfelt conversation in the end, but this morning is not the time; after all, I’m also exhausted, and there is a time for everything, right?

“What’s wrong, Coirpre?”

“… My sport gear is inside…” he ponders a little, clutching a soccer ball he rolled from under the bed.

“Then take it,” I pat his shoulder again. “Come on, otherwise you will be late?”

“You know what happened yesterday,” he whispers. “I—I kicked a kid. Rule is rule even if Coach N…”

“Rule is rule. But there should be mercy in justice,” I clutch his fingers.

“… I don’t want you to beg him to let me play again, you know,” he replies awkwardly. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh, you good kid. Let me give you a morale-boosting twirl,” chuckling, I begin to pivot on my leg. “And no, Coirpre. We will face it together—after all, even if there _is_ a reason to take you out of the field, there is still a reason why you snapped. Those kids have been bullying you in and out the field.”

“I hope,” he groans. “But if they are willing to test me, I’ll take it.”

“That’s my Coirpre!” I give him a thumbs-up.

“I’d do it regardless. I don’t want them to talk badly about you, Leen-Leen…”

It’s been a while since Coirpre calls me that—and honestly? I’m both touched and worried at the same time. I did faintly recall I had a baby brother shortly before my mother… well, left me at the orphanage, and out of babytalking the toddler would call me that. And each time my mother would correct him, pronouncing my name again and again until I vividly remember everything about her when she mentioned my name—the way she said it, her voice, her mannerism with this little twitch at the corner of her mouth like she was about to laugh, and the pride in her eyes.

Hearing that from Coirpre somehow makes me pensive, and judging from his expression, it does not look like he deliberately called me that just now. We never called each other with our babytalking names after we reunited as a grown-up. W-well, technically Coirpre is not an adult, but you know…

“Yes, Coco?”

He gasps. And I follow suit with my giggles. “It’s been a while, isn’t it?”

“… I begin to understand what Coach N tried telling me… I hope…” he whispers, returning to the bed. “I’ve been unfair to you. You often danced for the crowd you did not like, the place you felt unsafe in—y-you hunted for deals and made my food, b-burdening yourself as if… h-hnnn, forgive me Sis…”

“As if what, Coco?”

“A-as if you determine to not fail where Mom did. I—I mean, she left. And you said you w-won’t.”

… Coirpre…

“I—I’m an ingrate,” suddenly he sobs, clutching my hand, kissing it like he desperately wants to convey how guilty he feels. “I don’t even t-think you would coach at my school if they required something else. Like a tutor. Y-you know people talk. And you know money h-has power. I mean. I mean—if Coach N sent you home from the Yied, s-sounds like it was… hard, wasn’t it?”

“Coirpre,” I look at him now. “Were you ashamed of me?”

“Well, I didn’t get dancers and all that, you know,” he chokes on his sobs. “B-but does it matter now? I’ve got a lot to learn and you are my sister. Isn’t that the most important part? People probably don’t think of you as cool, but… y-you fend for me. Y-you are the warrior who shields and fights for me.”

“Oh, gods,” I take him into my embrace now. “Coirpre—I’m already happy that you don’t hate me.”

“Now I understand why Coach N said I disrespected you,” he murmurs. “As well as refusing me karate.”

“That’s one thing and another is another,” I pinch his nose softly. “First of all, Coirpre—you are still very young. And I’m not so grown-up, you see? I have doubts. Sometimes some days I just want to lie down and be a misanthrope. But I have you—together, we are strong,” I wink at him. “And Ares is a demon—ahem, I mean, you are a child, Coirpre, and that is alright—even adults mess up. I’m not perfect. Neither is Ares. So let’s just help and be kind to each other~?”

“Hnnn,” he sighs softly, and I would have _screamed_ in joy noticing him loading his gear as well as the soccer ball into the bag. “Alright~! Whatever happens at the field today, I’ll return home as Coirpre!”

“Great! And let’s cook something nice tonight~?”

“… Do we have money for another food order, Sis?” he asks in a rather sheepish manner.

“I’ll check, Coirpre,” I reply with a soft voice. “Ordering what, though?”

“… Lionheart Kitchen?” he scratches his head when I pause. “Um—Lene?”

“Eh—y-yes?”

“Are you…” he bites his tongue a little bit. “… Are you dating Coach N?”

I gloriously fall from the bed, slamming my face against a poster of some rock star Coirpre hangs on the wall—knocking a bunch of comic books at my feet in the process. S-siiiigh, right after I told him what it means to be a grown-up like a cool older sister I am? And what’s with that question again?! It’s almost like suddenly everyone wants to know if I’m into a demonic lion! First of all, I can’t even Lion and he has yet to even meow. Gotta find an equilibrium, you know? If I am a rabbit and he is a lion then this is a toxic, toxic companionship considering lions are carnivore—at least cats are cute and they eat fish first!

… I should stop thinking of w-weird things. Again. And do my best to uncover his true species!

“Ares is my college mate and we happen to share mutual friends,” finally, a wise answer! I’ve evolved into a Gyarados, no longer a Magikarp! Yaaay~!

“Oh,” he grins a little. “Why not?”

Huh? W-what?

Well, well, nice morning, Coirpre, now that you can be mischievous, sure you will be alright and you are not as exhausted, hnnn? S-sigh. Times two! “Coirpre, that is a dirty tactic,” I muster my firm older sister tone. “There is always another way if you just want Lionheart Kitchen’s splendid casseroles—it’s called… well, surprise, surprise… BUYING!”

Coirpre sighs when my fists roll over his temples as what I typically do each time he is at it again. “I change my mind,” he pouts. “I don’t want to grow up—you adults are dumb!”

I usually agree with such statement, but for this one—why?

* * *

 

Well, looks like I am unable to crack Coirpre’s cryptic message, anyway. However that one just gave me idea, actually—I kind of want to take Ares somewhere nice to thank him for everything he did for us. Like, I want to make him feel so comfortable to the point of feeling like a newborn cub, muuuhaha! Mission, make Ares meow. I mean—miserable.

But first thing first, I need to be done with kinesiology real quick. At least my outfit of the day is cute. Sigh—there seems to be a pattern here—days where my courses stress me out can see me wear cute things. … Yet at the same time I also dress nicely when my days are going to be more relaxing and slower!

… Conclusion, a cool person must look cool regardless of the circumstances?

So I start poking Iuchar, who is unlucky enough to sit next to me today. Saias is calmly drawing a stash of papers from his folder, and… g-gulp, they are already graded. He is going to hand us our own death warrant with a signature!

“Lene, I’m not a steak,” Iuchar shakes his head when I poke him for the tenth time. “Nice dress though.”

“Iuchar, this is emergency. I just got inspired—and you know that won’t wait your readiness. To make it better, this is classroom—not bathroom!” I whisper to him when Saias begins to teach. I don’t really pay attention to him at this point—he’s running a slide featuring… old people at the gym. Alright then, Saias. Geniuses often have niche taste.

“I’m always up for inspiration!” Iuchar beams at me. “Anyway—seriously, where the hell did you find these cheap-ass fashionable clothes? I’d rather believe you more if you said you robbed graves.”

I’m not-so-secretly-proudly smirking like a horse now. I got this vintage-style skater dress on a clearance sale! The color is ripe papaya-orange, sleeveless with a bow-knot accent on the front. And the skirt part is dark blue with abstract-style floral motifs (again!) like they are painted in watercolor. “I’m an underworld lord,” I answer mindlessly. Well, I don’t have much money so I often sign up for those newsletters which many people find annoying. Then the coupon tricks too! And I just looove vintage fashion somehow—this skater dress is basically an A-line dress with a little more flare, well-fitted on the upper portion then falls beautifully around the lower part of the body. It makes you look good, heheh. Summer loving, had me a blast~

“Oh. You didn’t rob graves? I’m a bit disappointed,” Iuchar sighs.

“Some things are open for a change…” grinning to match his playfulness, suddenly my mind travels again to… that. R-right, Ares’ semi-cryptic message. Some things are open for a change? But what things? He was watching a martial arts competition with his father while texting me, so… about fighting, then? “Iuchar. Tell me—how does one make a lion meow?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Uhhh,” scratching my head, fingers crossed Iuchar is too innocent slash dumb to catch my plan. “I was thinking of… you know, something casual to thank someone, and…”

Okay, that is the artsiest _shit-eating_ grin Iuchar ever flashed at me. “And this person—lion—is? Sorry, but you are clearer than rice pudding, Lene! We are artists! We are creative! And now you get tongue-tied brain-knotted that you can’t even think of a gift!”

“Uhhh—the person is rather—unconventional. Not in a bad way though, really!” quickly, I correct myself before Iuchar has… creative thoughts. “It’s Ares. I just don’t want to overwhelm him, alright—it does not seem like people even gave the slightest well-meaning attention to him in general, so…”

“Ares who?” he frowns a little. “Oh! You are enveloped in such ecstasy! Or are you a Hellenism devotee?”

“Nooo Iuchar, it’s Ares Nordion, the tall blonde senior of the architecture department!” impatiently I roll my fists against his temples like I did Coirpre. A-and Ares. Sigh. Besides, out of the primary twelve Greek gods to be devoted to, why Ares? Do I look that _belligerent,_ I’m a person of art! I’m not bellicose, you see, tell me that I’m awesome—or I steal your firstborn!

… S-sigh. Okay.

“The Black Knight does theater?” Iuchar beams at me again. “Is that why? Cats—the musical?”

“No, Iuchar. Please be back to procuring magical plastic roses out of thin air or I murder you,” I smile sweetly at him. Thankfully he gulps and returns to pay attention to Saias, whose expression I cannot tell—is he smiling, or is he genuinely wishing he could go on a rampage to kill us all with his slender bare hands because third of the class study, another third eat snacks under the desk or play Pokemon while another… sleep?

Iuchar slides a paper to me.

_Take him to the zoo to meet his species._

“What?” I nudge at him again, and he quickly scribbles another note.

_If you want to make him meow?  
Being close to his species will trigger self-consciousness, no?_

Good idea… but what reason will I need to take him to the zoo? What are we, children? Well, a zoo date does not sound bad, though, but for now my priority is thanking him, so like—

… S-so like, this is not a date!! I want to get him something nice to make him feel pampered a little!

“So, this is another approach you can use, if you are interested in more,” Saias points out his laser pen at the whiteboard, moving the slide containing interesting (citation needed!) papers regarding how kinesiology has improved lives—this time is for the elderly, not just children. He smiles—that must mean he wants to kill us all. Or perhaps he knows I suspect him dyeing his hair?

I just… really do want to pay Ares back, why is this so hard, hnnn! He saved Coirpre, his aunt gave me a cup of relaxing hot chocolate, will be fair to give back in return. Now how do I trick him into going?

Still, I’m glad everything progresses for the better, though—that, I’m certain. Coirpre is healing and being back to the bouncy Coirpre I know and love all along while Saias approves my kinesiology paper. He even compliments me! I’ve never even heard him doing that—he is nice, but if he compliments your paper then chances are—first, you sold your soul to the Devil; second, you told him you were planning to kidnap his firstborn; third, you are unreal—what the hell are you doing here, studying in a university with the rest of us? Get the hell out of here, you must be a secret genius trapped under the lab for so long and somehow the seal is broken that you can come out!

“So, the sampling is school children who play soccer,” he runs his fingers against the bundled paper like scanning them. I’ll tell Reinhardt that there is _no_ chance for Saias to be human as well—he’s got to be a cyborg with mindblowing-level AI. It’s like the moment he put his finger on a paper, his bionic eyes transmit all the information like he is reading it in a blink! And not only that he reads fast, he can summarize what the entire page gives him in a short time.

… Now I feel out of place. Is Jugdral-U… you know, actually a campus designed to accommodate and be attended by… _human_ students? Perhaps there is another portal to a secret Jugdral-U I do not know about? C-Can it be like in those comics and cartoons, me, a beautiful lone girl gets thrown into some kind of magical world surrounded by good-looking folks with _inhuman_ abilities? O-oh no!

… Eugh, what even is that. Since when am I even demure?

Regardless! I said what I said. First of all, you have an inhumanely rich Julishtar—ahem, Julius and Ishtar attending this school. You have an inhumanely _annoying_ Scipio and his curtain bangs (listen, _curtain bangs,_ not Kurt Cobain—I understand both sound similar when pronounced, but please, don’t be a peasant) and then the inhumanely mean Ishtar’s capo trio with unique names and even more unique ways to annoy the crap out of me like your typical mean girls. Then you have an inhumanely nice guy like Seliph, who… well, I don’t need to describe him even more here, right? And of course, last but not least, the inhumanely strong yet dorkish yet awkward yet as cute as a lion cub while being so brazenly handsome and well-toned at the same time—

… Alright, alright, I mean Ares!! Hnnn, happy now?! If he is even human at all, then how come he takes more photos of his bike than his own face?! Even if that face is a national treasure deserving adoration as well as protection from a gawking mass, you know what they do in museums? Yes, they preserve extraordinary beauties for us to look at, admire, and _learn,_ you know?!

S-someone, please just kill me—I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore. Aaaa—

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Today I’m going to pick team members. Are you coaching?_

Oh—right. Wew, Coirpre will need to compete right after the incident if he wants to earn a place!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Yes! Today will be the last drilling for my cheer team as well >:D_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I think the kids would say I’ve been being a scary dad so far._

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _* Coach I mean._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
That can’t be, you make a good father ^^_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _** COACH_

Damn it.

“Lene?”

“Oh—oh, right. Sorry, Saias…” gasping, I quickly banish my phone back into my dress pocket. Hehehe, I can hear that—you people sighing with jealousy, yes, right, it’s a _dress_ pocket! I sewed it myself! I can do the same to yours, provided you compensate me. You people know my email, right? Riiight~?

A-ahem. Where were we again…

“Haha, emergency message?” h-he still says that with a serene smile on his face! Suddenly I feel so bad for hating on kinesiology so badly. “Or is it this Instagram thingy youngsters talk about these days?”

“Saias—you’re not like, old,” I roll my eyes at him. Alright, but like, what if he is not-old _old_ like a vampire? This is the other side of Jugdral-U with alleged humans anyway.

“Oh, I’m not good with social media, really. Or should I have one?”

“You are a cultured man, Saias! There must be a medium more suitable for you!” I chuckle awkwardly then. … Considering I sassed him with my friends, p-probably I should botch his plan to be on Instagram.

“I see… the nay versus the yay is indeed imbalanced. With you, it is twenty against one…”

“And who is this one and only yay-sayer again?” w-wew, twenty folks _fear_ Saias being on Instagram!

“Let’s see…” he ponders a little. “Ah, right. Reinhardt Donner of the electrical engineering department.”

S-should have thought.

Regardless, Saias gave me an A! Weeeeee!! N-never in my life the subject I’m struggling with the most is the first to give me this beautiful grade when my life feels like on the edge. I’ve yet to prepare the presentation for Professor Forseti’s subject—admittedly, ever since he dropped me a bomb about my mother I really wish I would not have to see him again for the rest of the semester.

… Now that I’m in a better mood…

I recheck my Instagram. Direct messages exchanged between me and Ares somehow seem to be endless. I’m shy and happy at the same time, somehow—this shows that we have been maintaining constant communication so far, and there is nothing that is not delightful exchanged between us. W-well! Maybe I should reward him a little for collecting the questionnaire for me! Last message from him said he was not actually that allergic to ice cream as long as they are not deathly sweet, so…

My phone buzzes again. Huh—it’s Reinhardt!

 **_thunderingwithpride  
_ ** _I have yet to thank you for the gift that is Saias’ face, Lene!_

What? … Oh, right, right. He wanted me to ask for a glimpse of Saias back then.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Omggg Reinhardt I’m not your weed dealer haha! And it’s okay, I’m an imp anyway >:3_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _  
Olwen saw this at her job yesterday. Thought you’d be interested?_

… Attached photo…

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!

O-ooooh my God, I really, really, really did not realize I’ve been squealing _mad_ at the corridor with my phone in hand!! B-but really though, it’s so cute because Reinhardt just sent me a photo of a cat café! Cat café near the grocery store I visited with Ares some time ago! And the poster is equally cute, like it really brings out this calming vibe presented to you by your local cute cat gang. There is this particular fluffy orange tabby which captured my attention at an instant because not only it is so cute, it has that innocent look which gives an endearing dumb look.

… D-dumb and orange, huh…

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Quick question Reinhardt is your last name Donner?_

 **_thunderingwithpride  
_ ** _Exactly it is like my username!_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _OHMYGODITCANTBE_

 **_thunderingwithpride  
_ ** _What might have stolen your backspace button?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _OMG NO I MEAN SAIAS KNOWS YOUR LAST NAME_

 **_thunderingwithpride  
_ ** _Quoi?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _NO REALLY!!! Like he was just flipping my paper as if one finger touch alone made words manifest in his brain or something and then whabam apparently you’ve been persuading him to get Instagram._

 **_thunderingwithpride  
_ ** _… So he is a fast reader, huh._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
He is a cyborg?? I KNEW IT :OO All the great folks here in Jugdral-U aren’t human._

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _  
Hmmm. Maybe if he touched me he would understand all my hopes and dreams?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OMG REINREIN_

 **_thunderingwithpride  
_ ** _Oath which binds brothers in knighthood is unshakeable!_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _> BINDING AHUEUEUEUEEEE_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _  
Saias knows my name… Saias remembers me… great brother with great mind…_

G-good, Reinhardt has gone auto-pilot now. But really though, it’s a cat café!! I forwarded it to my girls!

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _Can’t this week!_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Same >.>_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _That orange tabby looks like Ares, don’t you think?_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _A R E S you said_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
Now that you said it…_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Yeah! Kinda sullen but adorably dumb._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OMG asdfghjkl_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
Don’t tag him though this group is a sanctuary, no man allowed!_

Ares—an orange tabby? Hmmm…

Hnnn? My phone buzzes again? Huh, direct message from Altena! Why, this is a pleasant surprise!

 **_gaebolg  
_ ** _I binged your tutorial videos!! Superrr helpful! Lol @ people getting mad at your last review just because you said those products are overpriced and suiting folks with light skin more. I love your stuff! You should make some shopping log or something like that, there are 1001 ways to save money heheheh._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Awh thank you <33 see as long as I still have caring friends, I’ll be ok ^^ and hmmm now that you said so, maybe we can shop some time? :D_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
Friends, huh…_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Um—did I offend you? D: omg I use that term deliberately! Like, if we know each other and be nice at each other it’s enough to make me your friend ^^;;; if you don’t like it, I can fix it!_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
Nahhh it’s ok and I’m good! It’s just rather endearing because you’re so unhesitant like that :)_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Hnnn? :OO_

 **_gaebolg  
_ ** _… I don’t really have many friends, Lene._

… Eh?

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
Some girls dislike me and boys think I’m scary. Ares is my first friend here._

I see… so that is why, they…

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
What kind of BULLSHIT nonsense is that ^^ you are so strong, awesome, but rather than that you are also caring! Anyway you have this SUPER PRETTY long brown hair omg I’d love to grow my hair but I imagine it will be a hassle. That alone says you are actually not as bad as they made it to be, yeees~?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Omg sorry for chirping BUT_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
… You analyze whether people are nice or not from their hair? :O_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Uhhh ^^;;; exhibit A! Ishtar Friege! Exhibit B! Ares Nordion!! Exhibit C! Altena Claus!_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
… You truly are so cute lolololol I understand now >:3 sigh, the lion got a rabbit._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I’m not cute!! I’m actually SCARY! AAAA—_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
Fine, fine. Lioness then?_

L-lioness? Whyyy Altenaaaa. But hold on, why do I feel rather… shy just because she said I was?

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
No! ^^ Because the only alleged human here is Ares. As his classmate, please uncover his species~ ^^_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
… Lene, I’m not going to take his pants off just to see whether he’s got a tail or not._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
HwaT w@!t jU$t a 5eC_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OMG I KEPT PRESSING THE wRoN9 k3YboArd_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
Why don’t you just do it yourself?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
M-making Ares… pants-less?_

 **_gaebolg  
_ ** _I mean just ask him if he’s a demon or not but_

 **_gaebolg  
_ ** _HAHAHA WERE YOU SERIOUSLY THINKING OF DOING THAT?_

G-great, I only dig my grave deeper!

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_I—guess I’m taking your precious time. Bye ^^;;; the shopping invitation still applies though~_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
Nooo it’s ok omg I’m dead bored. We’re at the computer lab designing with the cute TA called Arion and my vector lines won’t even fucking run on my program._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Cute? Oh, sorry, I don’t know him. Come to think of it I don’t have specific comp-lab classes…_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I hope your designs run smoother than diarrhea or laxative-induced person =^^=_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
Oh, you are so cute._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
THIS ISN’T PLAYING CUTE I DON’T HAVE A BETTER METAPHOR MY BRAIN IS A POTATO_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _  
Arion Dain is probably the only living-breathing Jugdral-U dude dares enough rocking hair that long. Anyway, if you think you can defeat me like this—nahhh. Sorry, Lene >:D_

Oooh I see now, eeeheheheee. But to crush Altena I have to be smarter than a dragon because this is the beautiful Altena who just suggested me to make Ares pants-less. And this is also the Altena who is immune to Ares’ legendary death glares. And this Altena seems to know Ares like the back of her hand…

… Hnnn, what’s wrong with me? Each time I mindlessly get reminded of how close she and Ares are, I get rather uneasy. Like there is this lingering feeling that I won’t be as awesome as she is, considering the last thing I broke was not another person’s ribs or spine but… hnnn, egg tart crusts!

But somehow this makes me feel rather curious! Why does Ares _not_ like Altena?

… H-hold on a second.

Rather than that, why isn’t Altena like, crushing on him? He’s got long hair too if that’s her type.

A-aaah, I’m thinking of weird things!

… But really, though—why isn’t she? Why isn’t he? They will make a shiny couple, you see. Equally good-looking and strong and like, there is a shared history which is only understandable by both of them. He respects her and she treats him well too. They spar and crack jokes. They have that distinguished feature which will just… compliment each other well.

It still does not change the fact that I’ve been wanting to take Ares out, though. I—I mean, the recent events are rather stressful for both of us—r-right? He’s buried under designs and homework, and I’ve got papers waiting on me. He needs to prepare the kids to win matches, and what happened at the Yied just topped the emotional torture! I’m busy too—I have the Tirnanog Art Night at the door, but on the other hand I just got paid and everything. I just… s-somehow I kind of… want to treat him to niceties…

… Can I drop the bomb at him? L-like, asking him if he likes Altena if at all? Because I don’t want to steal anyone, y-you know.

Stealing… okay, stealing what and whom again?! And why is this simple thought of going out with him feels different somehow?! Like, somehow I can’t just tell him that I found this cute cat café through Reinhardt and I want to take him there with me! Is it because the café is cute that I fear he’ll die the moment he walks into the door? But my favorite table at Tirnanog also has super cute pink cushions! And he did not die sitting there. A-and more importantly, I dragged him there half-joking half-serious because he has been evading the place like a plague, being Seliph-allergic and all that. But! See, there’s still a but—hear me on this—I wasn’t this concerned and nervous taking him to Tirnanog compared to this cat café! I-is it because Tirnanog is basically a no-secret while this cat café is like… m-mine only? Mine only by information because seems Reinhardt specifically sent it for me! And taking Ares there will be like sharing something only I specifically know at the moment…

Hnnn, w-why am I thinking too much? I forwarded it to my girls, and despite declining, I did not have this nervous impression about it. Like, alright, they can’t this week, no problem—there will be other weeks to go to if we want, and definitely I’m not going to get all speechless and odd asking them. And I heard Fee isn’t really a big fan of felines!

(Ah, is that why she nearly smacked Ares with her purse?)

I fear NO lion demon! What is to fear from him anyway? He’s dumb.

… Endearingly straight-face dumb though.

Or I can _challenge_ him and if I win _he_ has to take me to that cat café! How about that? HONHONHON!

… But why must _he_ take me out again?

… I kind of want him to take me somewhere nice, though…

… F-forget it. His definition of nice must be different than my or any other normal, non-demonic human definition of nice. He is probably going to hole himself at some spicy food restaurant, deliberately eating five bowls of noodles or something. Because his creed is this whole thing about not wasting food, right?!

… That does not sound bad either though. What’s better than being able to be honest to each other and getting sweaty with each other at ease? N-not _that_ kind of _sweaty,_ you know? But—

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Why not both?_

EEEEEEEEH?

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_The first one is convenient while the other takes more time to master._

H-hold on Ares—

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I AM SO SORRY OMG I DID NOT THINK WEIRD THINGS ABOUT YOU I SWEAR IT’S MORE LIKE FOOD_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_Hmmm?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Ah, that’s for Nanna. She asked if it’s better to carry pepper spray or pocket knife._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OH_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OMG_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
So_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _So you helped her again... ^^;;_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _So you were thinking of me? Interesting._

AAAAA—

… T-the lion radar is at it again…

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_I-it’s common, don’t you think?? Don’t friends think of friends??_

 ** _anblacknight_  
** _You stutter in texts?_

I really should count my blessings because—because it’s so good that he is not human. S-sometimes.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Well better than you who put your abs on your texts I guess_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I type with my hands._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Like, FLAT CONCISE BUT STRONG_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
HOLD ON_

 ** _anblacknight_  
** _…_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _WELL BECAUSE A FACE CANNOT BE FLAT RIGHT, WHAT ARE YOU, HORROR MOVIE GHOST?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Sigh actually forget it you definitely are. I MEAN—_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Oh. I see, thank you for your sincerity._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _NOW HOLD ON JUST A MINUTE_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Ghosts are fascinating though._

… S-so he thanked me for being compared to a… ghost?

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_… Quick question, are you TRULY human?_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_Are you? Are you not an angel?_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_E-eeeeh?_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_Such warmth and that halo on your hair—_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_… Perhaps you caught heat wave without even realizing it? Health hazard. Please be careful._

What a bummer. At the same time, again, I’m thankful that he is just so daft-dumb like this… I guess. B-but the cat café… cat café, cat café, cat café…

I did not realize I’ve been mindlessly walking to the computer lab with my phone in hand, fiddling with it—changing my view from the home screen, calendar, notes, and then Instagram. For real, what’s the big deal again? Come to think of it, it was like he challenged me to eat ice cream because the last time I talked to him, he asked _when._

Oh, so this is the computer lab…

But this is a lion’s den. And I bet my ass I’ll probably be hounded by thirty-or-more college seniors thinking I hate myself so much that I prefer to die getting maimed by a lion demon. But then again if the cat has a toy, supposedly he won’t care that much—I’ll just throw the invitation at him, and if he can’t, I’ll pretend that I got the wrong person—heck, I can even take Altena too…

… But there is no such a thing as a substitute friend! I’ll ask Altena to hang out when I mean that I _do_ want to hang out with Altena, not because she is a second choice! That will be shitty, though!

It’s just a cat café! And ice cream! What the hell is it nervousness about again?

Suddenly the _I Have Confidence_ song from The Sound of Music echoes in my mind. I have confidence in sunshine… I have confidence in rain… I have confidence spring will come again, besides which you see I have confidence in me!

Inhale, exhale… darn it, my tumbler is empty and I forgot to refill!

I can do this. I can do this. It’s just asking Ares out—

F—F-for ice cream, I mean! For ice cream! We are college mates as well as acquaintances at the field!

So like a very smart person I am (not)—I yank the computer lab door open. At least thirty-five half-dead tired architecture major seniors are too half-dead to even notice their class got an intruder instead of some poor soul who just returned from the bathroom—holy sheep, one of them is giving a casual middle-finger by building their Minecraft setup instead of doing their AutoCAD or Vectorworks!

W-well, technically Minecraft is building, too. I guess.

I catch a glimpse of Altena’s beautiful swirling long brown hair—she occupies the back row just exactly next to Ares! And not only that, she is not-so-secretly throwing a piece of paper at him.

Ares cocks an eyebrow, opening the crumpled paper Altena threw. “Hello, mozzarella hair—eat shit?” he reads the paper with a straight face. He rolls his eyes, scribbling something back to throw at her. H-how creative. And—wait, I thought college seniors are like… mature. How wrong I was!

“You are not edible,” Altena reads the note thrown back at her. “Hey, nerd, look,” she grins, holding up a book. “If you open page 43 this Vectorworks won’t make you sweat like an expired mushroom…” slowly she holds the book down, revealing a… middle finger. RIGHT, a middle finger!

Ares snorts so hard he nearly sneezes. “Okay, C-salad.”

“I don’t even eat Caesar’s salad.”

“C-section salad.”

“Gods—frickity-frackity fuck.”

“You are welcome.”

“You are gross.”

“Danke schoen.”

“Die.”

“Das.”

“Fuuu—“ I’d be sure she would have _leapt_ off her chair to smother Ares dead with a choke hold if this was not a class. S-speaking of class, alright—there is no sight of the so-called ‘cute long-haired computer lab TA’ as she described, but now that everyone is either too dead to do school thing, perhaps…

“… Ares?”

“Shit—don’t call me sweetly like that, Altena, it’s like air herpes.”

“Bold of you to even assume I will even call your human name,” Altena shoots back, looking like she is ready to switch target to choke-hold her monitor instead of Ares. “You know herpes? Condolences.”

“Fuck,” Ares grins, realizing Altena outwitted him. “But really though—that one just now…”

Altena shrugs. “Your demonic species are trying to reach you, perhaps?”

They both look at each other. And I’m—taking turn to be half-dead. Only THEN I realized what I just did—practically I’m snooping into their class now, j-just to ask Ares… go to the cat café with me? And like, I acted out of impulse, impulse!! Oooh gods. I could have texted him and all that b-but like…

They get up of their chairs at the same time while the good students at the front row are still busy doing their stuff. And then they found me! Me, who goes instant shutdown the way a tamagotchi dies. Nooo! I need to take control—yes, control! And what’s with Altena’s big grin over there? “Uhhh—“

“Lost your way, sophomore?”

Ares is _smirking_ now… and oooh so he wants to play old! Sorry, you may be older, but you are dumber!

… R-rich coming from someone who barged into an unrelated class. S-sigh.

“Listen—I’m not going to take your pants off here, you see—“

F-FUUUUU—

“… You are not going to—what?” the lion cub’s copper-colored eyes widen. Altena giggles! Darn it, it’s all on her face! And Ares turns around, looking like he quickly catches up and not-so-secretly hopes he can suplex her flat against the floor.

“Yes! Do you have a tail? You are only alleged human…”

“I don’t,” he shakes his head, dropping his chords lower to the abyss. “Should I prove it to satisfy you…”

“N-no. Keep your pants—I mean, tail,” my knuckles instantly land on his nose.

“… But I don’t have it?”

“ARES—I mean—“

“And I wear shorts under t—“

“NOOO.” Before I knew it my hand flies to clamp his mouth shut. He looks at me—as bewildered as he is, and stupidly nods as if saying it’s alright. I take turn shaking my head then—he replies with a straight face as always, damn it, that should be the proof I need—he’s not human!

Altena exiles herself under the desk to muffle her cackles like a witch. Control, Lene, control…

“Ares Hezul Nordion—I challenge you to a fight!!”

I-I spoke louder than I intended! Those half-dead architecture major seniors lift their heads off the monitors, looking at me with this _horrified, horrified look_ like the kind of those aware people in horror movies or thrillers trying so hard to warn you of an impending doom and get you out of there. They truly haven’t forgotten that he remains undefeatable so far, h-huh…

“I see,” there is a subtle glimmer of mischief in his eyes as his leonine smirk grows. “A duel, Miss?”

“Y-yes. A duel—one versus one—um, at the cat café…” why do I keep talking?!

Altena stops cackling. She slowly emerges from hell—I mean, the space under her desk, now eyeing me curiously. I know what she’s thinking, I’m surprised myself! I _can_ hear those architecture majors whispering slowly that—first, this girl must be crazy (I am not); second, she is dumb (that truly is yes); third, why would one challenge another to a fight in a cat café?!

“And what style are you from?”

S… style? “Uhhh. Free-style. Folk too—those are my forte? I do folk dances well!”

Altena wears this expression like she is desperately holding a fart while Ares—well, s-smiles?

“No. I mean…”

“M-my hair started as a classic layered bob cut before it grew this long?”

“Holy shit, she is dumb,” one of the architecture seniors sneers.

“I mean it’s obvious, duh—if she is not, she won’t be challenging the Black Knight.”

“… Fighting style or martial arts style, rabbit.”

Eh?

… Eeeeeh???

“N-nooo. I have nothing in this cruel world. I don’t even like belts. Hnnn. Y-you win.”

“S-she melts,” those quipping seniors speak again. “… Is she a cheese or an ice cube? Cute, though.”

“W-wew, Ares, she’s sobbing in shock,” Altena nudges him.

I’m so ashamed of myself, goddammit! And just my luck, the door opens again, revealing the very Arion Dain Altena briefly mentioned to me! “So, how is everyone doing…” he strolls in, scratching his head when finding his precious class looks so chaotic while most of his students half-dead. “Not again,” he sighs. “I’m so going to go out drinking with Saias this week. Misery loves company.”

“H-hnnn, I’m sorry! I won’t guillotine your waistband either!” I comically sob for real this time. Not only that, my courage is completely vanished into thin, thin air the moment Ares gets up and smirks like that! And now I’m sooo ready to die. Darn it, a-actually, let me die! Dragging my sad deflated ass out of the classroom. Sorry, Coirpre, how am I going to date Ares, even—I can’t even take him to go out…

D-dating Ares? What is he, a calendar?!

* * *

 

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _… S-so that’s what happened TToTT anyone with a sword—KILL ME. NOW._

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _There, there. Everyone is a little dumb when they are in love._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hold on who is in love again though? :O_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _… Case in point._

What? Really, if this be the question of dumbness, then I can assure you, Ares is dumber! On the other hand, perhaps that’s why this world is (probably) fairer than I thought. People with nice hair are awesome, but at the same time they are also kind of dumb.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _HEY HEY ARES LET’S PLAY ONE WORD QUESTION! ^^_

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _So sudden. Bring it on._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
WHAT DID YOU USE FOR YOUR HAIR??? LION SHAMPOO? CAT SHAMPOO?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… No? Men’s shampoo just like everyone else._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
LIAR, THAT LOOKS LIKE MAGAZINE-WORTHY SHINY BLOND HAIR_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I don’t wash my hair with magazine._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
How come you are this shiny yet so dumb. Hnnn, the girls are right—you must be in love!_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
…._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Sorry I_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
I choke on my tea, my throat burns. Give me a sec…_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
D: OMG you ok???_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Is this cardiac arrest_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
TEA CAUSES CARDIAC ARREST??? WHY DIDN’T THEY TEACH THIS AT SCHOOL???_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
No, rabbit, the tea is alright._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
No? What did you drink then, radioactive???_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
… You are funny._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I’m not fungi!! =_=”_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Oh, funny? :O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Haha, why are you so surprised?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Of course because you are only alleged human so I figured you’d be speaking Lion X_X_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Lion demons can learn languages and love too._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
See, that only proves you are not human-human._

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Alright then, rabbit-rabbit._

Huffing, I send screenshot of part of my chit-chat with Ares to the girls. See, it’s useless talking to Ares—even if you chain him down he will still be like this. Imagine a Psyduck—shiny-yellow, yet dumb!

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
… You… d-did you straight up ask him whether he’s in love? Oh—my—God._

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _See, HE is dumber!_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
So he’s in love all this time then? ^^_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _  
No, he’s choking on his tea -_-“ sigh, Lene… you… never mind._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
… That Ares has a contender._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Sadly it seems to be the case._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
What?_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Sigh_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Sigh…_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hmmm. Iuchar seems to like Larcei and he is dumb._

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Eh—irrelevant, it’s Iuchar. He is._

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Alright, Leif has Nanna and he is a little bit of dumb. This theory sounds legit._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hmmm. Perhaps Ares is indeed in love then… after all, Altena is just awesome…_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
I’m sorry—Altena?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hmmm? Oh haha that’s autocorrect! Antenna. Must be antenna haha!_

 ** _nunsfighttoo_**  
_Antenna is… awesome?_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_I-it’s a genius communication invention, isn’t it?! Rather than that, how do I make Ares meow?_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _Why not make him roar instead of meow ;D_

 **_larceiheyhey  
_ ** _Girl_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
Oh I’m still on a curfew in this group chat huh?_

I end my group chat with the girls, darting my heels to the station to get to Coirpre’s school. No way I’m facing Ares after this! Leaving him a short text, I told him he could just go first because I’d need some things to pick up first. Which isn’t actually lying—I refilled my tumbler, a-and more importantly, I need to pick up my dignity back. Sigh. Oh, right—I sent Ares an addendum of a ‘don’t ask don’t reply’. Aaa—

The field is already crowded when I get there, and Ares’ figure is nowhere to be found. Shrugging, I drag myself to the locker room to check on my girls and getting changed myself. Passing by the headmaster’s office, however, I caught faint voices and what sounds to be… Ares’.

“… No. That is not the case—she and I are professional and it will not change regardless what happens.”

Huh?

“You see, Ares, there has been some… concerns with the recent event,” another voice speaks. “You disciplined the strikers. They are power players, and apparently it was out of clashing with this kid?”

“… The name’s Coirpre, Sir.”

Eh?

“And I heard he is Coach Bragi’s younger brother?”

“That is true. But look—they bullied him. I disciplined Coirpre Bragi for kicking the goalie, and likewise I did the same to his bullies. This is a team and we are not having that at the field,” Ares sounds… angry. More than that, he is disappointed. “You cannot tell the kids to love their school if the school does nothing to make them feel safe.”

Oh, right, come to think of it, Jugdral-U sports committee, to him…

I can’t stand this anymore. I’ve barged into an unrelated room—classroom prior, so if I’m going to feel so embarrassed and be hounded by the memory for the rest of my life, at least better make it worth it! Huffing, I yank the door, to the surprised expressions from both men.

“Pardon me for interrupting,” I seat myself before him even before he manages to say anything. “Sir—I assure you, I do not seek for gratification from Coach Nordion outside the field on behalf of Coirpre.”

“W-well, Miss Bragi. You sure are—frank,” the headmaster sweat-drops now.

“I train my girls outside the field. Of course I’d love to fraternize with the team, but it’s not like the boys always take everything for themselves and get the best. There are two locker rooms here, but how come my girls always need to change in the bathroom? I get that a soccer team consists of eleven people, but given that my team does not even come close by number, I never thought that _waiting_ on them is just that much. Boys are such babies, aren’t they—and you’d like to compare that to my brother—who gets bullied to the point of breaking down, to the point of having to work to earn his own lunches because—because they always ruined it? And one time he snapped because—because your precious boys called _me_ names—things kids their age should not even know in the first place—and your first reaction is questioning whether I and Coach Nordion kissed?!”

I should have done this better. I should. This is my temper flaring. This is my tired, exhausted self barking. And perhaps this is unwise. Yet at the same time…

“We don’t tolerate bullying in our school, Miss Bragi—“

“Everyone says that, leaving kids without protector, making them feel unsafe,” my voice is rather bitter now. “But the fact that it happens regardless kind of negates that, Sir. I mean—I don’t fault this school, at all—but you can count on us that we are trying everything we can for the teams. I had no clue that Coach Nordion was responsible for the soccer team for this season, so please—please, do not use me as a leverage against him. If there is something you find disappointing in our performances, you can always tell me.”

“I pledge to take the kids to the final,” Ares speaks again. “And after that, I’m resigning.”

“Ares!”

“I’m a substitute coach, anyway,” he nods in resolve now. “But you can believe me that there is nothing flawed in the way Coach Bragi teaches so far. I’m planning to pick the players today, and that, Sir, is actually what the test is for—if Coirpre Bragi is unable to compete with his challengers and rivals, he’ll be out and what is left is nothing but a fair play—as it should be.”

“I—I see. You must understand that personally I have no qualms about either of you, but you see, the parents of those kids…”

“Sounds like it’s clear now _who_ tries to control _whom_ ,” I grit my teeth. Now with everything is cleared up we return to the field, side-by-side, with Ares walking with me in a silent manner.

… He still isn’t speaking even after we assembly to the field. The physical education teacher is here this time, wanting to see how players are picked. Ares approaches him, showing him notes and everything. The teacher does not seem to object to what he is doing, though—if anything, he seems to give a rather warm approval about it.

“Does this include the previously below-cap kids?” he says, looking at Ares’ work plan.

“Yes. I want everyone to be able to take the test. Of course if the kid is just that lacking, in the end we’ll accumulate scores to see if they reach minimum. Performance assessment, though, I leave it to you, Sir.”

“I am actually confident in you. Your name is all over the news until last season—what makes you stop competing?”

“… Personal reasons,” Ares replies stiffly, looking like he wishes the teacher to doubt him instead.

“What a pity,” the teacher mumbles.

That only seals his lips for the rest of the game—clearly that his mood sours with everything that unfolds. He gathers the kids, and even I can sense that today is more tense than usual—at least with the last test-play he did, the girls were merry and the kids did enjoy everything. But now…

“Alright, this is the day. Let me be clear about one thing—just because you are not selected for this season, does not mean you are a loser,” his firm frankness kicks in that he quickly masters the bench. Ares is always like that—he does not sugarcoat in the sense of being mean, but he says what he thinks needed saying. And he still wants to be fair while at it—I’m sure by now he already understands each kid’s capability and which ones that are good and which ones need improvement. “There is always another chance to surpass yourself. Do take my words for it—yes, Ced?”

“Tell us a story,” the green-haired boy asks demurely. Wow, even Ced—the promising, stellar Ced—looks incredibly nervous! “I mean—you are the coach. And previously you said you haven’t trained kids before—how do you cope with it—losing, I mean? Or have you never been lost to anyone?”

If only these kids knew t-that truly _is_ the case, sigh. This is a champion who passed matches undefeated by fifty times—that means he had won fifty matches! If he used to compete basically every season or at least twice a year then it’s like he’s never been dethroned through all his life as a Jugdral-U student!

“… I used to think that if I had the time to cry over my losses, then I’d have time training,” he ponders a little before finally replying. “But recently I learned it was wrong—you need to give yourself a time to get sad, to be weak—because only when you are at the lowest you can bounce back the highest.”

Nobody says anything. They probably expected him to say something more monstrous, like doing a deadlift. But the lion demon here says something so… unexpectedly… humane. And somehow I really want to slip my hand into his. It’s alright, Ares—it’s alright. Gods, if it isn’t, I _will_ make sure it is…

“Cry if you are sad or hurt. After all, your darkest times give you a moment to contemplate,” even more unexpected, suddenly he turns around, looking at me… with a smile. Smile—pure, pure smile without any trace of mischief, without any jest. Just a smile… “… And I learned that all from Coach Bragi.”

I don’t know why but suddenly I feel embarrassed. Supposedly, he is crediting me—and yes, I appreciate it, but somehow there is this… unfathomable shyness I’m feeling when he said it. Is it because he smiled? I’ve seen him smiling a couple of times—something which seems to shock other people because according to them, this Black Knight does not smile. … Yet he does. And he laughs, cracks a joke, helps, and ultimately… cries. Yes. And feeling like he will never be able to surpass people—first his father, and then… Seliph. He still contains fierce anger in his chest, it seems, but lately he behaves more… tempered.

“Let’s just get started,” I nudge him softly then.

We part our teams. He gets the boys to stretch while I take the girls to breathe and stretch. From the corner of my eye, I see him taking his belt off, looking rather pensive for a moment but slowly changes expression into being resolved before lining the kids up. First, he tests them by asking them to stretch their legs as far as they can—like making a kick. “I want to see if anyone here is equally flexible.”

“Can you show us how?” Ced asks again.

And that moment, his eyes meet mine.

… I know it. I understand what his doubts are. I give him a comforting smile and he closes his eyes for a second—and his firm tone comes out. “Like this.”

The kids stop frolicking. Their eyes are glued at him—in a swift and seamless motion he pivots with a leg, sweeping his dominant one upward… up and up high, and needless to say, it is in his blood—his karate just kicks in… suddenly I feel so, so utterly happy—he could do that, he just did that to guide the kids…

“Hold on like this for ten seconds,” he says, oblivious that the kids are basically beaming at him now. “And then we redo,” putting his leg down, he sways to do another with a different leg. “And that’s what this belt is for. Come here, Coirpre.”

I expect Coirpre to sulk because he is indeed behind his other teammates, but Coirpre… his expression does not change. He merely nods—taking it like a man. And I really want to ruffle his mane again for that. He simply walks up to Ares, making the demanded kick.

He tumbles. And I hold my breath. To my pride and joy he quickly picks himself up, doing it again.

“You can improve like this,” Ares says, fastening Coirpre’s leg on the belt and slowly lifts it. Giving the belt’s ends for Coirpre to hold, he returns his attention to everyone. “Get a belt or something reliably similar. Position your leg like you stomp on the belt—divide it in two, and slowly, slowly, lift your leg up and hold on. You can repeat this regularly until everything gets better.”

“Alright,” the kids mutter in unison. And the test begins afterwards.

There is practically something similar to triathlon—he wants the kid to circle the field around four times and he’ll record their finishing time, directly followed by a hundred-meter sprint. After that, he wants each kid to shoot five penalty kicks and do zigzag dribbles. He also wants to pair kids for shooting and receiving drills and switch their partners to see if the kids can adapt and improvise.

Their stretching includes light-running around the field two times. I can feel it—not just the tension, but the burden and portion of the tasks this time. They are also more physically-demanding because Ares wants to bring up the real feel of the field.

First I drill the girls for their vocals. Then we also stretch. I’m more than pleased that none of them stutters this time, and even the bashful, rather-quiet Sara manages to make her soft voice be heard across the field. When she finishes, the rest of the girls beam at her!

“Wow, who would have thought your voice is this beautiful?” Tinny sighs.

“Now we join the boys,” I herd them when Ares blows the whistle, telling them to start running in circles for four times. “Come on. We can do this. Do not feel discouraged—they need eleven players to form a team, including substitute players. Now look at you—there are only four of you in this cheering squad. You have no substitute player or stuntmen—but you have each other. Your role is no lesser than them!”

They pause. And it does not take long for each girl to give me a burning, fierce resolute look.

“T-the boys are often rough,” Sara squeaks. “What if they knock us…”

“It won’t happen,” I wink at them. It will not. I’m going to protect these girls at all costs. I promise I’ll fight for a kinder world for them—where they can be seen as an equal to the sportsmen at the field!

We run. The boys look amazed because my girls have no problem rivaling their endurance and speed. My chest swells with pride when one of the team members winks at Miranda.

“Damn, you’re so cool. Grab burgers with me after?”

“Oi,” Ares smirks, separating them. “This one first, that one later, boy—Ced?”

“Y-yes,” the star student grins sheepishly after getting caught red-handed holding Tinny’s hand.

Coirpre looks a bit sullen for a second, but he sighs anyway, and holds Ares’ hand instead! When Ares gasps a little because he truly did not expect it, Coirpre simply chuckles, returning to his track. Ares shakes his head, sliding his hand into his pocket as always. But from one look alone I can see that he does not actually resent it. In due no time he races the boys at the starting line, taking notes, looking at his stop watch repeatedly. He then gives them five minutes break to cool down and I get my girls.

“How is everyone?” I check on them as they stretch their legs and gulp some water.

“I manage,” Sara nods.

“I feel light,” Miranda replies confidently.

“I’m good,” Karin follows suit, giving me a thumbs-up.

“I didn’t sprain anything,” Tinny reassures me.

“Good! When Coach Nordion gets the boys to sprint-run, I want you to do the same but yell the motto. You know—the Thracia Invicta one? Manage your breathing and vocal—and make sure it’s heard all over the field! And remember—no ice and all-nighter during the matches, alright~?”

“Okay! Let’s do this!” they nod enthusiastically. And to my pride, everything goes well! Voices are stable, breaths are normal—everything. My little team is ready to fight—and hopefully, win. Meanwhile a little commotion can be heard from across the field. The strikers Ares disciplined the other day frown when they are told that they will need to take the test as well.

“Really? With him? You must be kidding,” they roll their eyes at Coirpre, but this time my little brother does not back down or look back in anger. He looks as calm as the sea, but… well, I hope he does not secretly begrudge everything again until it accumulates into a destructive inner anger. It’s shitty, but…

“If you are so sure of yourselves, then what’s the problem?” Ares, unperturbed, merely rotates the ball on his finger. “And if you think Coirpre doesn’t belong here, then there you have it—the selection.”

Each kid rolls when Ares starts calling their names. Coirpre looks incredibly resolved. My heart knots when he makes three successful penalty shots. The fourth one nearly missed the goal line after bumping against the net, and the fifth is a complete failure because he trips and smashes his face against the ball.

Those strikers laugh at him. He appears to be pale a little, but he merely picks up the ball and leaves, making way for Ced who goes after him. He even sincerely praises Ced for making splendid shots!

“Aww. Too bad, nerd. Skipped food in the morning? Oh right—your mom left. Poor Coirpre.”

I feel like I can break a board with my bare hands now. I’m here, and they still do it?!

“Look—insult me as like, I don’t care anymore,” Coirpre counters. “But insult my sister and I’ll end you.”

Ares hides his prideful smirk when I nudge him. “You taught him to glare _like you_?”

“It’s just a kid treasuring his sister. Why am I at fault?” he replies in a yielding manner, smirking even wider when I conveniently stomp on his foot.

The rest proceeds well as usual and I hold my breath again when Ares is ready with the score board. “Coirpre—this is it,” I hold his hand. “You’ve tried your best. Even if you didn’t make it, I’m proud of you.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“Let’s eat Master Cakes if you make it,” I pat his back. “And let’s eat Master Cakes if you don’t.”

“You are the best,” he beams at me. “With or without Master Cakes, though—I swear.”

My Coirpre is back. _My_ Coirpre is back! Truly, truly is back now. And he accepts everything with dignity when the strikers make it to the team, anyway—assholes as they might be, they are still good players, a good triangle power for the field. And he quickly walks up to Ced to congratulate him when Ares calls. “I know you will make it, Ced. You are awesome anyway.”

“Come on, you are sincere. That makes a dedicated person,” Ced smiles, glancing at Tinny, slips his hand into hers when Ares looks on his note again.

“Ced?”

Ced gulps. And Ares… chuckles. He chuckles! He has that mischievous yet brotherly air about him when he does. “I have lion eyes. Don’t you think I didn’t see that.”

“He’s not human,” I mouth at Ced and he grins back. When he’s off to be joyous in private, I turn back at Coirpre, ruffling his mane. “It’s okay, Coirpre. I’m here. Hug me if you must.”

“T-that’s not so grown-up,” he mumbles.

“Grown-ups get their hearts broken too,” I pinch his nose softly. “It’s alright.”

I said it, but my eyes travel at Ares. What if he likes Altena? And now that I’m their friend, will I be able to… you know… oh, _shit_ —now I understand why Coirpre feels so bummed. I’m like that one person in a trio who walks behind all the time! And then Ares and Altena are going to be like that kiddy rhyme about “So and so under the tree,” good God, why do I feel so sour out of the blue? Ares is _not bad,_ you know. And he really is kind. He and Altena joke and troll each other nearly all the time—yet at the same time it’s clear that they can just sit together and vent if that’s what’s necessary.

… And she’s a blackbelt like him…

Names are being called. Coirpre shakes his head sadly, and begins to leave. Miranda pats him while Sara gives an understanding, comforting look.

“Where are you going?”

Coirpre startles. Ares frowns, eying him like an eagle. He turns around. By the look on his face I’m sure he wonders if Ares thinks he is a sore loser. “I’m—sorry. I need the bathroom, Coach N.”

… My brother truly has grown up.

“Hmmm? Too bad, I was just about to call your name. Alright, make it quick.”

“I’m sorry—what?” Coirpre _jumps_ on his toes. “I’m—in?”

“Yeah?” Ares casually flips his note, his leonine smirk gradually returns. “No longer wanna pee now?”

“C-Coah N…” Coirpre mumbles, red-faced. But Ares simply stretches his hand at him.

“You are still a substitute player for the rear guard,” he says. “So you probably won’t play as much as the main unit. I wish I could do more, Coirpre, but considering your recent performance…“

“I understand,” Coirpre nods with resolve. “I thank you for trusting me still—I’ll work hard.”

“That’s what I’d like to hear from my team,” Ares smiles at him. “Welcome aboard, junior rabbit.”

“Yes! A team is a team!” he proudly joins Ced and Tinny with the girls tailing him. Haha, oh, Coirpre, dear Coirpre, if only you could see Sara is kind of fawning at you~! Heheheee~ sorry, but for this one, the cool, stylish, and overall-awesome older sister cannot help you. Grow up and live life, my brother!

“You’re still a substitute though,” one of the strikers hisses at him.

“You did not break me before,” Coirpre merely shrugs. “And you will not. Man, get a life.”

I’m so proud. So proud P-R-O-U-D proud! Gods, I feel like choking again somehow. The boys start leaving the field to change, and I gather my girls with me as well. We get into a hugging circle and I wish I’m big enough to envelope them all with my arms! There are some solemn, solemnly blissful silence for some seconds when they finally register that—yes, we are going to participate to win a Jugdrali cup! And _yes_ —for the first time since a couple of seasons, the cheer team is back, and now fiercer than ever.

“I-I can’t believe we make it through,” Sara whispers with trembling lips. “Oh God, I’m so nervous.”

“And you are still here with us,” I rub her back. “This is your family, Sara. You belong here.”

“I can’t wait to see our uniform,” Miranda ponders. “What will it be like?”

“Cheerful soft colors?” I wink at them. “But with vivid accents in between.”

She looks so pleased. “Will the dress have a pocket?”

“Oh, yes,” now I _grin._ “I _made sure_ they added the pocket. If they didn’t, I’d sew one for you for free.”

“Oooh, Coach Bragi!”

“Heheheh~ sharing is caring,” I wink again. “Well, here we go, girls! And listen again—no matter what the lottery decides, the other team there is just a team like ours—not a monster. Do not lose yourselves. Now go change,” somehow I really want to smile at them now. “And celebrate perhaps!”

With them abandoning the field, practically I’m left alone with Ares…

He glances at his watch. And I awkwardly check my phone when it buzzes.

“Oh, it’s Coirpre. He’s going to eat noodles with Ced and Tinny…”

“Oh, you are talking to me.”

“I—uh—s-sorry?”

“I thought you were mad at me,” Ares runs his thumb on his nose, looking pensive yet awkward. “You texted me telling me to go here first, so I thought…”

“You—ooooh gods,” I slam my forehead with my hand. “I’m not mad at all! I-if anything I was deathly embarrassed for intruding your class like that! A-and saying weird things. D-don’t even ask. If only I could give you a coherent explanation, alright, b-but. I mean. I MEAN. Aaah, why can’t I give you a coherent explanation?! You are supposed to be the dumber one here, you know? S-so why?”

“… Ah, rabbit.”

Huh?

“Excuse me for a second.”

Eh?

He reaches for his phone. And I can faintly hear he’s calling… Coirpre?

“I need a fast response,” he says on the phone. “So, is it—oh. I see. Thank you, junior rabbit.”

“Uh—something wrong?”

“No. I recall in the lab you said you wanted to challenge me in a fight?”

“P-please just forget it.”

“I don’t forget.”

“H-hnnn.”

“Alright. I challenge you back,” he chuckles. “Lene Claudia Silvia Edda Bragi, fight me at the cat café.”

“C-cat café? Y-you… you called Coirpre to ask for my full name?”

“Yes.”

“O-oh. Okay. Now you can Google me too I guess…” why do I feel like blushing when he recites my full name like that?

“I don’t Google ladies, Lene Claudia Silvia Edda Bragi. I’ll ask—like what I just did.”

“O-okay.”

“My background is Shotokan dancing,” he chuckles again. “And I don’t know what my hairstyle is called.”

“I—didn’t know that’s what it means.”

“It’s alright, Lene Claudia Silvia Edda Bragi.”

“Why do you keep mentioning my name like that…”

“Because this way I won’t forget it, Lene Claudia Silvia Edda Bragi.”

“Oh—I—see. Hnnn. I think you will remember quickly, though. You have a lion memory,” I nudge him.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs in a leonine (see!) manner. “Would you do the honor to fight me at the cat café?”

“I—will check the menu t-to make sure there is something you can eat.”

“I will fight you fair and square, so please don’t mind my inconveniences.”

“Hnnn. You really aren’t human,” sighing, I shake my head. “Can I translate your words?”

“By all means, Lene Claudia Silvia Edda Bragi.”

“Y-you are saying—you will eat whatever is there.”

“Correct.”

“Hold on—you are saying _you_ want to take _me_ to the cat café!”

“Yes.”

“A-and even if they serve parfaits?”

“Yes.”

“But Ares!” gasping, I reflexively touch his forehead. “Really though—it’s a dessert café!”

“I trust that my years of experiences with free Master Cakes tidbits hone my defense and endurance.”

“Hnnn. I don’t want you to die, you know?”

“Such a benevolent warrior.”

“I’m serious—let’s not go there since it’s not your kind of food. We can find another place…”

W-we?

“But you like it and want to check it out, Lene Claudia Silvia Edda Bragi.”

“Yes, Ares, but like—not at the expense of your life,” I roll my eyes at him.

“I’m a demon. I do not recognize a human’s concept of living.”

Oh! A… confession?! Finally! Finally I get to know his _actual_ species and there’s no need to pull his pants off just to see if he’s got a tail he conceals under! Yaaay~ must be my lucky day—

“Therefore I shall fight you in the art of eating sweets.”

“Eeeh?”

“Yes. Go out with me to the cat café, Lene Claudia Silvia Edda Bragi?”

H-he wants to… h-he wants to hang out with me… specifically… at the cat café… eating things I like… even if they may kill him… alright, perhaps poison him a little bit… he is a demon… maybe he bears an important mission from a demonic overlord to take over humankind… but still, c-cat café…

“… Really?”

“Yes.”

“Like—really, really?” I beam at him.

He nods. “You have that expression again…”

“Hehe. Sorry, I really didn’t expect this. I guess I owe Reinhardt for the place,” chuckling, I smile sweetly at him. “And what do I gain if I win?”

“I wasn’t complaining,” the corner of his mouth twitches. “If you win, then I’m at your disposal.”

“Even if I need to change a light bulb?” I stick my tongue at him.

“Oh, especially that, considering I’m taller…” he smirks when I yank his mullet.

“And if you win?” now this part is more important!

“If I win, huh. Interesting…” w-wew, he flashes that leonine smirk again!

“Yes. I need to know what’s at stake here, you know? I don’t want to be dragged by your demonic overlord to conspire against humankind. Sorry, but I’m loyal to my species, Your Demonic Lionness.”

“That is fine with me, Your Angelic Rabbitness.”

“If this goes on I’ll have you killed even before we get there,” I roll my eyes again. “So! What if I lose?”

“I pick the next place if you don’t mind tagging along,” he quirks an eyebrow oh-so-casually.

… Eh? D-does that mean…

“I—see. Umm—y-you can interrupt my class too if you want. And don’t kill Iuchar. Uhhh. Q-quick question though, Ares. Does that mean…”

“Does that mean you are coming to the cat café with me?”

“I asked you question, you know,” huffing, I yank his mullet—again. Why, his eyes sparkle somehow. But he says he’s not a vampire… a-and he smiles. And chuckles lightly. I think—I think I don’t need to say that he understands what I’m thinking about even before I said it. Perhaps? He’s brooding. I mean—b-brooding should give you more time to… contemplate. Technically contemplative and brooding are like, synonyms, right? … Right? “Uh-huh—Ares—“

“Yes?”

Oh, so he drops his chords again like that? How dare you! “Do not drop your chords like that, you lion demon—this is not a lost and found section, dammit, s-speak human—“ he is still giving me that anticipating look, but somehow that smile feels so kind and warm… and suddenly there is this thought that he has never been invited to calming and cute places before! And oooh gods—okay, he just said yes. That’s it—plain yes. Even if he dreads sweets! “—N-never mind. Yes.”

“Thank you, rabbit, meow.”

Eeeeh? Was that faint sound just now—

He merely smiles faintly, waving at me as he turns away, heading towards the locker room where the fresh soccer team is waiting with the sports teacher.

* * *

 

The term ‘calm before the storm’ really is real! The matches kind of take my time and attention, leaving little room to be concerned of anything else. I’m enthusiastic, but at the same time I want everything to be over quick so I can resume on my normal life as well because everything has been so… intense and making me nervous as well. Suddenly I get reminded of Ares saying he will resign after the season ends regardless of the outcome for the team. Suddenly I recall the teacher who seemed to instantly recognize him from old-ish newspapers, and I wonder… is actually working there kind of… tormenting for him?

Ares is tough, enduring and preserving. Like back then he told me he never retreated and took hit.

… But I want him to be happy as well?

Well, Coirpre practically bundles himself in his room the closer the day to the match is. He is nervous, I can see it. He keeps himself busy by watching soccer matches, especially old clips which show how new or substitute players behaved after they got called into the field as the match progressed. He almost did not come out when I called him for dinner—must be glued to my laptop he borrows, with deafening headset completely attached to his ears!

Finally, this is it—a Saturday we anticipate. We really do not have time to be drowned in anxiety, anyway—perhaps for the better. I figured if the match starts any longer than this, either we’ll be engulfed in anxiety or the fire will not burn as strong. Ares and I are equally busy too—I don’t know what he is doing outside of his peak coaching career with the Thracian kids, but for sure I have the Art Night I need to prepare as well. With the matches take over my brain, I can even barely Google for inspiration! Each time I want to Google live performance of singers known for their spectacular stage act or active beats perfect to dance to, I subconsciously follow in Coirpre’s footsteps—Googling for soccer match if not cheerleading clips instead! I’ve done cheering in high school. But soccer is a brand new world to me, and even if technically these are just middle-schoolers we are taking, I do not want to disappoint them the way they work hard to earn that shirt!

The school is rather empty. It’s Saturday, alright—so technically the soccer boys and my cheering girls have it for ourselves for today. Well, with the teacher, perhaps. All the chatters stop when boxes arrive at the school today—I feel it, all the kids hold their breaths, waiting in even more anticipation while Ares and I open them.

Both ears and eyes are kept open as Ares starts calling the names of the team members, distributing uniforms for each kid and reminding them of their positions at the field. “Go change,” he says then. “Let me see if something is amiss. Yes—even if it means something simple as misspelling your names.”

“I get a uniform too?” Coirpre beams at Ares. “Oh, this is so cool—“

“Enough fawning. Change.”

“Y-yes!” Coirpre chuckles, dragging Ced with him. “Did you see the black stripes??”

“Yeah!! Making me feel like wearing a Juventus jersey!” even Ced sighs adoringly!

And now my turn. There are only four girls under my tutelage anyway, so it does not take long for them to try on their uniforms. They emerge from the locker room since Ares banished the boys to the bathroom, and I appreciate it because I do want them to feel comfortable in their clothes and own skin first before their classmates get to gawk at them.

And here they come. Oh, they are so cute indeed! The top is in this combination of orange, pink, and vermillion red giving an impression of softness, cheerfulness and strength at the same time. The skirt is in darker pink shade—like between dusty pink and coral, while their legging is red with gold accent. And yes—I grin with pride when Miranda _smirks,_ showing me that the skirt indeed has a pocket. With yellow-colored pompoms, my squad is cheerful and tough at the same time and I can’t wait for them to murder the opposing team’s squad, mwahaha!

The boys are back, looking so amazed and in awe at the girls. But it’s like suddenly the girls have become something more… bewitching—not in the sense of seductive, of course—but like, so cool that none of them makes any disrespectful quip. Instead, they busy themselves taking selfies with each other, occasionally dragging me and Ares as well.

The lion demon looks rather awkward at first, but after pushes and puppy-eye stares, he clears his throat, scratching his head and letting a bunch of kids drag him to take photos. Awh, that’s kind of cute. Who would have thought that he _actually_ has soft spot for children~? Hehehe, maybe I should remind him about it next time…

“Alright, everyone. Here is the rundown,” Ares starts the moment everyone is back to the class again for a briefing. As always he stands while allocating the teacher’s chair for me. “There will be ten teams for this Jugdrali cup—Manster, Silesse, Grannvale, Miletos, Isaach, Orgahill, Verdane, Yied, Agustria, and finally our school. The lottery match has rolled and it is decided that we will play Manster for the first round,” he scribbles everything rapidly as he speaks. “And they are strong.”

“… W-wew. Not looking good?” one of the kids mumbles.

“Exactly why you should not despair,” Ares responds, setting the marker for a moment. “Manster kids are known for their defense. What did they call the team again?”

“The lancers,” the same kid answers. “Because their defense is impenetrable so far. Our school engaged them five-six times in the past and they always stopped us at the quarter-final, but to meet them at the first round like this? S-sounds like a death warrant, Coach.”

“Did you previously train the way I did you?”

“Eh—no. Admittedly you are a bit unconventional. It’s like building an army.”

“So we have a chance because I’m a newcomer,” Ares smirks then. “Alright, listen—defense reacts to an offense. In other words, a defense usually works depending on the action it receives. It’s a passive aggression,” he casually dribbles a ball. “Come here, Ced.”

The kid follows, waiting for instruction.

“Defend this from me.”

“You are not serious.”

“I am. Try blocking me,” he chuckles, lightly kicking the ball at the green-haired middle-fielder. “And be mindful of your surroundings, alright—don’t break any window!”

Ced grins. He nimbly juggles the ball, and quickly gets a hold of himself after gasping because Ares starts shadowing him. When Ares pushes his foot to take over the ball, he quickly turns away, holding the ball between his thigh before returning it onto the floor again.

Ares withdraws. And Ced stops.

“See. He reacts to what I do,” Ares points at Ced. “I can force myself to take the ball, but Ced can throw it out of the line as a last resort. The best I can hope is the throw-in favors my teammate, isn’t it?”

The kids nod.

“But here is the thing—sometimes you don’t have to fight back,” he explains again. “So if I…” he makes a motion of shadowing Ced—just shadowing him, following his every move each time he wants to press forward but withdraws when looks like he is about to defend it, giving a false impression that there is a room to move when actually isn’t. It keeps happening until Ced lowers his guard, giving Ares all the chance he needs to sweep the ball off Ced’s feet.

“I lost the ball,” Ced speaks.

“So you see,” Ares propels the ball upward and hold it firm. “I wasn’t fighting—I _wore_ him _out_.”

“Aaah,” Ced slams his knuckles together while other kids follow suit with their own reactions. It’s there—the fighting spirit is there, I can feel it. Like there is this new hope brewing strong in their chest, all the ‘Aha!’ moment they have been waiting for.

“Right. Lure them out. Make them drop their guard. If they are going to defend, chances are they are waiting for you to get close. From there, you can expect two things—offside trap, or that they are going to tire you out. Do not let the latter happen because you will be deep in their territory that it will take time to reach your base if they manage to offend back,” Ares keeps talking as his marker dances on the whiteboard. “Like this. Questions?”

“So someone at least needs to bait them,” Ced raises his hand. “And who will do that?”

“You are a middle-fielder and our fastest runner here,” Ares replies firmly. “So it’s going to be you.”

“Got it,” Ced looks like he carves everything to his heart.

“You strikers—cover him. If Ced gets cornered and cannot break free, we are doomed,” Ares speaks again, truly mastering the room now. Does he even realize it? Does he even notice that every kid basically looks at him like he is this lordly warrior rallying a bunch of knights behind him? “And remember—no mischief this time. I will take your asses out of the field if the same _shit_ you pulled on Coirpre happens again to Ced. There’s time to be assholes and there’s time to grow up. Hear me?”

“Y-yes.”

“You better,” he returns his attention to Coirpre then. “And you—your team is not your enemy.”

“Yes, Coach N.”

“Manster will come here tomorrow. They are playing at our base,” I finally manage to speak up because Ares’ presence has been so strong and firm. I mean—I know I can just cut him in _anytime_ because he’s actually gallant unlike those men who always speak over you, but everything he says there is important that I really, really do not want to intrude. “So let’s give them an unforgettable welcome!”

“Coach Nordion?” Sara demurely raises a hand. “Your methods are unconventional. It’s like we are out to fight or go to war. I’m not saying it’s bad, but—ummm, is this because you are an architect?”

Ares pauses. Suddenly he chuckles. “I’m just a lion who happens to fight a lot.”

I pinch his waist. He turns at me. His chuckles stop, leaving only a smile there. “It’s alright, rabbit,” he whispers then. “Perhaps slow but sure I’ll be able to reclaim everything back. After all I agree with you that these kids should not be made to feel like fighting is the only way for them to prevail.”

… I squeeze his arm and he lets me.

Well, that aside, our Saturday is concluded then! Sunday will see us returning in the afternoon, around three when the sun calms down a little. If we prevail against Manster, then we will wait the outcome of other matches—there is Isaach versus Orgahill, Miletos going to face off with Verdane, Silesse will go against Yied and finally, Grannvale will fight Agustria. We’ll see what the ballot says, and chances are, since the first match will be held here, we will have to travel to our upcoming opponents’ bases or if the championship decides to have it somewhere else. Still, it’s just inter-middle school Jugdrali cup, so there won’t be something extra grand or anything, because according to Coirpre, usually only the semi-final and then final will have the game played at a district stadium. If this is an inter-high or inter-college match, everything will be different because chances are players who are far from the location probably will need to dorm themselves around. The good part is that my school work and schedule will still be bearable, and I hope Ares does not really have much in his hands right now so he can focus as well.

“We need to study and finish our summer school work so we can play focused,” Ced says. Awh, such a good kid, sobs. Fee must be proud! … Wait, Fee will sleep with the books open and mark it under a Fuck-It label, I guess. S-sigh.

“I agree,” Coirpre quickly follows. Awh, my little brother is a good kid too! W-what if I ship him with Ced instead then. Sigh, times two. “Hey, I have my books with me. Anyone wants to follow us to the library?”

“Yeah, we will study,” Ced agrees. “It’s still too early to go home anyway. My sister won’t pick me up until like… in two hours or so.”

“Studying, Coirpre?” I smile at him then.

“He can ride with me and Fee, Coach Bragi,” Ced says. “My sister won’t let him stranded.”

“Of course. Thank you, have fun studying…” I ruffle Coirpre’s mane out of reflex! Oh, my! That truly was accidental! W-what would he think about it? Would he get embarrassed for being treated as a kid?

“Hnnn. I will.”

H-he did not!! AAAA—

“Will you join us?” Coirpre addresses the strikers. “We can think together if we find something difficult!”

W-wow. H-he just… he offers a hand to the bullies…

The striker kids pause. They look at Coirpre like he is crazy, but Coirpre is still waiting. And now that he waits, Ced is waiting on him too! The strikers exchange glances with each other, until one of them finally nods. Still looking awkward they don’t say anything but following a smiling Coirpre and a grinning Ced awkwardly. The rest of the group looks equally relieved because there is no confrontation this time. Perhaps the championship brings that sense of cohesiveness among them?

One by one the kids disperse and I watch them leaving the school with Ares like good, responsible parents—coaches!!—we are. Some leave with a family member who comes to pick them up, some others leave with friends to commute home. Some even rides bicycles!

“Well, I guess…” I tilt my head back at Ares, who just kind of awkwardly waved back at a kid.

“… Cat café.”

Huh? He mentioned that out of the blue—semi-whispering it as well! I look at him, waiting for a smirk or whatever it is that lion demons do to signify mischief. But there is none. He just smiles…

“Now?”

“Is it too abrupt?” he still smiles, patiently waiting on my answer. “Or are you tired?”

“You really aren’t human,” huffing, I shake my head, concealing a small smile which blossoms somehow. That’s actually quite endearing, and if I have to point out—who says that at this day and age? Again? This is Ares so I should have known to expect less than surprises. But like, he can just flat out tell me something akin to ‘hey how about today’ or something like that. The way he posits it is rather… old-fashioned, I must say—something I don’t really expect coming from him because supposedly this is the kind of guy who dislikes formality and shrugs at what others find charming. And the way he said it is like… somehow… and bench-press me for this—a…

… Date?

“Oh, no, I’m fine, really! I was about to ask you too because you didn’t leave any details…”

“Ah, right,” he scratches his head. “Not wanting to tire you out.”

“W-why are you always, always saying the most shocking things with a straight face,” I playfully punch his nose again. Nevertheless, a moment later has us riding the road because he truly, truly takes me to the cat café. He doesn’t even say much, simply nodding when I show him the poster because the address is there. If anything, he isn’t really himself today—I mean, he’s not really the chatty type, we know that, but today Ares is somehow more tempered than usual.

He still doesn’t say much when we get to the café. He merely snatches an empty parking lane, tilting the bike so I can comfortably slide down as well. And as always, he gave his helmet for me…

“Spacing out,” he breaks the silence between us, taking the keys off Mystletainn to pocket it back.

“Um. Quick question.”

“Slow is okay too.”

“Are you sure about this?” I scan him warily. “I do want to take you here, but if you’re not sure…”

“Ah, so you want to take me here,” he points at my nose.

“W-well. Y-yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?” he simply chuckles. This time I notice that he does not have to wait on me to walk first so he can match my speed or paces—we just walk at the same time, and neither of us actually outruns one another. Everything feels... natural, compared to shoulder-bumping him weeks prior if not him nearly tripping on me because of his long strands and speed.

… Somehow I wonder if he notices these things like I did. Somehow I wonder if he thinks similarly; like how natural having him beside me feels. And somehow, it is… enjoyable, having him around. … Am I being clingy? The matches and our workload at school took our time that much that even I had tough luck to run into Ares again after the Yied incident. And now that he is here, everything feels… good.

… What’s happening to me? Why is it so comforting, having him nearby when he’s not fighting?

“Eh—because you were silent,” I scratch my nose awkwardly. I don’t think he’ll lie if he truly dislikes this place—after all, he still sullenly tells me how much vendetta he harbors against parfaits. Yet at the same time I catch this vibe from him—that if I take him to a parfait parlor, he’ll just tag along. Hnnn? And he’s supposed to be the stubborn demonic one here, so why is it as if he aims to please me?

“Ah. Tension before a match is normal,” he smiles a little. “Actually, I was wondering if…”

“Y-yes?”

“… If I really should get a woman’s helmet if you would…”

“Eh? Um, your voice is rather soft, can you please repeat?”

“Hmmm? Oh—no, never mind. Uh—is riding with me enjoyable so far?”

Huh? He’s getting even more awkward! “Hnnn? Yes! You take care of me well, you know?” chuckling, I take his arm to get inside. And oooh boy, t-there is so much goodness there!

First of all, the interior is just cute. The kind of cuteness which is so hashtag cute, hashtag CUUUUTE. The room is well-lit, giving a comfortable homey vibe the way Tirnanog does. But while Tirnanog gives off that serenity vibewith its dim lights, this cat café has nice ventilation and sunlight peeks inside well! The curtains have nice sky blue color whereas the chairs and tables are of the same nude shade. The walls are… s-soft… pink… sobs… and seeing Ares cocking his eyebrow at me, seems he catches my thoughts!

“Worth it, then?”

I elbow him, blushing. The sullen orange tabby I saw in the poster is holding its paw as if welcoming us. And we barely enter when a black cat meows at Ares! He looks so _cute_ while standing awkwardly like that! The cat walks around his feet, rubbing its tail against his jeans.

“It likes you!!” I beam at him.

“It can’t be,” he says in disbelief, crouching to look at the cat.

“Same species! Hmmm… perhaps you are a cat deity?”

“Hmmm. What do I do now?” he stretches his hand, so distracted that he is to the point of not realizing I just called him a cat deity! The orange tabby holds up its paw again, and to my greatest surprise, Ares is… “How do you do? I mean—meow?” his eyebrows knit yet he blurts that out just so, so, innocently!

H-he _shakes_ the cat’s paw!! AAAAA—I take a photo!!

We settle on a nice, comfortable built-in-the-wall long bench… or should I say, sofa, because the seat is comfortably soft like those couches in your own home where you get to lazily lie down chilling. There is already a menu booklet on the table ready for customers to read, so I take it while Ares seats himself beside me, looking well-surprised because there is more leg room for his tall posture to settle down. “Let’s see,” I flip the booklet while he sets his backpack down. “Oh, they have red bean ice cream too! And here’s the matcha~! Ares, they also have lemon! I’ll ask if it’s sweet though. And—heeehehe, the dark chocolate ice cream is available with choco chips and Oreo. I guess it’s your lucky day, isn’t it~?”

He peeks into the menu as I chirp. W-we are so close like this. It’s like he engulfs me in him because of his towering posture and broad shoulders there, but at the same time, it kind of feels… warm, with him close nearby? “… You checked the menu specifically to see if there’s something I can eat?”

“Hnnn? But yes? You should be able to enjoy this as much as I do,” I flip the pages again. “… Oh, look, they have parfait with strawberry ice cream and fresh fruit slices!”

“… No. It’s just…” he shakes his head softly. “You said I took care of you well—perhaps it’s the other way around,” he stops me from flipping the pages again. “I feel safe. Thank you so much.”

H-huh? _I_ made him feel safe?

But he already calls on the waitress to take our order, smirking a little because—yes, I order that parfait with strawberry ice cream and fruit slices, damn it—and he asks for the dark chocolate ice cream. Our orders do not take long to arrive, and surprisingly, the waitress gives us a lemon custard pudding we did not even order! “There seems to be a mistake…” Ares contemplates the jiggly, rounded cute yellow pudding with vanilla sauce and decorative syrup to shape it as a cat. Hehehe, every time Ares gets so innocently curious like that, he’s so cute like a cat! I’ve never seen anyone looking at something new in a more profound way than those researches in lab coats besides Ares. You know what, perhaps if this means to blow him away I’ll just take the misplaced order.

“Oh, there isn’t!” the waitress explains with a chuckle. “It’s the bonus for the day—you are the tenth couple occupying the love seat today! See the poster there?”

L… Love seat?!

LOVE SEAT? C-Couple?

“Oh. Truly didn’t notice at all. Thank you, Miss.”

Ares’ response is flat, flat, flat!!

“Aaaah, Ares!!”

“Hmmm? Are the cats perverted?”

“W-what?”

“Why are you screaming?”

“I mean!! Couple’s bonus!! T-the seat! The free pudding! Everything! And the cats are cute like you!”

“… I see. Then what is the problem, rabbit?”

H-he smiles. Like smiling-smiles if not chuckling a little! “I—t-thought you wouldn’t…”

“Why would I take you here if being seen with you is something I’d rather avoid?”

“G-good question.”

“And why would you take me here if you hate being seen with me?”

“H-how confident!” I yank his mullet.

“That’s called rational,” he really laughs this time. “… But is it alright for you to be here with me?”

That again. The subtle hint of awkwardness where he seems to feel… out of place. Like regardless of what I said or he said, there is this looming feeling underneath where he seems to be like… thinking that he still does not deserve to occupy the same space like everyone else. This is so sad—considering the irony here is that he cares little what people think; yet there he is, feeling awkward and everything exactly when you think _feeling bad_ is the last thing he ever even thinks. He still looks contemplative, and that very instant moment I feel so guilty. Maybe I should not have reacted the way I did—trust me though, I hardly meant malice at all. If anything, I just want him to feel… alright. Perhaps exactly because I do not want him to do what he actually does not want to do…

The orange tabby lingers around us so I grab it. The cat appears to be surprised, and Ares looks at it again, anticipating a move, perhaps—s-sigh, Ares, cats don’t do karate, they are natural-born assassins! I hold up the kitty at his face, placing my other hand on its bottom to balance him. And I know I have to say something. I know I have to make something _very clear_ here…

“Good afternoon, Mister Ares, meow,” I start talking, holding the kitty in a way so that it hides my face. “I’m a spokes—hold on, I’m not even a person, so technically I cannot call myself spokesperson! Hmmm… spokesman? Spokeswoman? See, your companion of the day finds it too late to peek into a cat’s butt to check whether I’m male or female. Anyway, is that even important? Does it matter? What do you think—male, or female? Oh, wait—let me be clear here, I am a cat.”

“I respect your client’s benevolence not to peek into a cat’s private parts,” Ares nods solemnly. “If only her benevolence extents to lions, however—if it’s about the tail, I can just tell without being pants-less.”

“Really? Too bad, Mister Ares, meow.”

“Or does your client actually wish me to be pants-less?”

I kick his shin under the table.

“Hmmm. You have long legs, kitty.”

I kick him again. “Perhaps you should not be so prejudiced against your own species, meow.”

“I’ll keep that in mind—my prejudice is reserved for another species—leporidae.”

“That’s not very nice, Ares, meow.”

“Oh, but rabbits are cute.”

Huh? H-huh??? “Cute?”

“I’ve never seen a blushing cat before. Perhaps you’ve been mingling with humans too much?”

“Blushing? Why, you’re uncool. Have you ever heard of Mineral Essence—the brand? They have a blush-on with peachy color with slight mauve undertone, works nicely on any skin tone so far!”

“No, I haven’t,” he snorts. “Thank you, it’s always nice to learn new things.”

“And it’s called Demure,” I pat his cheek with the cat’s paw. “Hnnn, such a peasant.”

“Alright, Princess.”

“I’m a cat. H-how the hell a cat can be a princess?!”

“You are stuttering there, spokeskitty. Are you alright, mayhaps?”

“This should not even concern you in the first place, alleged human—because the reason why we have this talk is you…” I pat the cat’s head gently because it starts to get weirded out—alright, I understand, kitty, if I were a cat and some screaming girl holds my butt with her hand while desperately trying to tell her ice cream date that everything is fine and he should not feel like a burden, I’d freak out too.

D-date? H-haha, as if. Hold on—this parfait does not contain date fruits, doesn’t it?

“Alright,” Ares folds his arms, waiting.

“You look like you are about to smile, meow. Do you know that holding back a smile will make your face puffed like a fugu fish? Anyway, trying to contain laughter in your chest can result in farting, you know?”

… W-why do I say such stupid things in times of dire…

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he nods solemnly with a straight face, but his eyes twinkle.

“So! Mister Ares, meow. We are here because you need to hear something important—pertaining your presence here with my client!” I make the orange tabby nod—or whatever it is the cat equivalent for nodding is called. “First thing first—you are never taking anyone’s space. This world is so huge and home of various people as well as animals! If some ghost lady with long hair and long white gown can exist, why can’t lion demons, breathing the same air like her? Wait—do you even breathe?”

“I do,” he replies.

“Good! Which brings us even more closely to the second point—there isn’t really much difference between you and other people there~! That alone already makes us similar. Look around—there are adults, teens, and even kids here. But they are all here eating desserts and playing with cats.”

“… Ah.”

“Honestly, do you think I’m dumb?”

“What? Not at all.”

“See~? If anyone is to be judged by first glance only, not even ourselves can pass any test,” I set the cat down, winking at him. “And I’ve known you to be kind anyway. So let me make this clear—you are not bothering me or anyone else by being here basking yourself in cuteness. You are a nice person, therefore you deserve something nice~!” I slice the lemon custard for us. “Try~?”

He pauses. A moment later he shakes his head again… smiling even gentler this time. “Alright…”

This feels great—and funny too, in a way. Everything is warm and fine—I even feed him the pudding! And he just… eats. I’m spoon-feeding him like this, with all the merry chuckles and laughter exchanged between us while the orange tabby just settles on his lap like that. Cats and lions are probably indeed similar—they see a comfortable place or a person they think they can settle with, they’ll do so without caring for anything else. Hnnn—does that it mean that Ares feels comfortable being with me? I hope so. What is important is, though—he does not realize that he has eaten half of the pudding without a wuss! Hueeehehehe~! Not in my wildest dream I ever imagined that I’d be enjoying my Saturday afternoon with Ares like this—feeling so at peace and… happy. I don’t recall when even the last time I hung out with a guy which made me feel so… contended and confident at the same time. That I wouldn’t have to polish anything or fearing that he’ll think of me as weird after this.

… I wonder. Ares is this nice and good. Why wouldn’t anyone… ever… you know…

“Spacing out, rabbit.”

“Oh, sorry…”

“Let me borrow that then,” he takes the pudding from me and… switch! He takes turn feeding me! W-wew. Previously I just felt happy-funny because Ares was quieter than a bewitched child. B-but now that we switched, somehow my courage flies out of the window! N-not in a bad way—I mean, not that I want to escape him because this makes me uncomfortable. On the contrary—somehow I can’t look at him exactly because he pampers me like this—

“U—Um…”

“What’s wrong?” he only chuckles faintly b-because I’m bowing rather low, unable to look at him.

“T-that’s quite sweet,” I murmur then.

“Really? I’m not adding anything to this pudding,” he licks the spoon. Oh, right—it’s been like that and we have been enjoying ourselves so much that we even shared a spoon! Aaa—

“I’m not a child,” I know this is just… j-just yet another reason I made because he made me feel… shy. Poor attempt, Lene. Sigh! If anything, my feeding him while laughing and everything appears like feeding a child more than what he is doing now!

“Of course you are not.” Huh? His index finger gently brushes my chin to tilt my face looking at him. There is nothing which speaks mockery there—if anything, he wears such tempered look on his face—and again, cleaning my face! W-wew…

“T-there’s vanilla sauce on your nose,” I tick his nose to clean him back.

“… Thank you.” He chuckles. Just… j-just chuckles like that. Meanwhile the orange tabby conveniently—or rather—insolently perches itself by stretching its front paws between me and Ares. I didn’t even know that is even possible, but then again we are talking about a cat, s-so…

“Ah—wanna try my parfait?” giggling a little bit I pass my glass at him. “You can take the fruit chunks. Oooh, look, there are grape and kiwi slices. Fiiinallyyy! You eat parfait!!”

“Likewise—why don’t you try the dark chocolate here?” he takes his bowl as well while this insolent cat makes itself at home on top of our thighs. When a maine coon strolls closer, suddenly it wakes up and kind of glares at the newcomer! The shyer maine coon strolls before courageously hops onto… my lap! The orange tabby retreats further into Ares’ lap, looking rather sullen.

I incline closer on Ares the same time he is about to reach out to me as well. The cats startle because we move so unexpectedly like that, and he hands his bowl to me because being taller gives him more range to reach to me. “T-this is kind of a hassle, isn’t it,” I hand back my glass because we are switching. Taking a spoonful of the dark chocolate ice cream, my eyes slowly light up. “W-wow! I don’t know dark chocolate can be _this_ tasty! I usually evade them because they have that strong bitter taste.”

“Perhaps sweet finds sweet,” he replies flatly.

“So bitter finds bitter? Interesting! Now that you eat sweets, that must mean you are sweet too,” I stick my tongue at him, waiting on him to finally swallow that _motherfucking_ parfait while he looks like he’s ready to brace himself for the upcoming after-effect. “H-how was it?”

He pauses. W-wew, is he alright? Is he dying?! I’ve never performed CPR to a lion demon!

“Ah…”

“Ares? Oh—water…”

“… No need.”

“No need?”

“Yes. That was actually… nice.”

Ooooh my God?? “N-nice? Nice you said?” t-this feels so ridiculous! I get overly excited simply because he praises a glass of parfait! B-because he actually didn’t mind at all getting dragged to a dessert shop and even ate what he previously cursed (somewhat). Aaaa—

“Why such face?” he chuckles, returning the glass to me as I hand back his ice cream.

“Because I’m happy!!”

“… You are happy because I ate parfait?”

“Hnnn! I’m so happy because this way all this cat café experience will make a good memory, don’t you think~? If you die here then there’s no way you’d try cute desserts again. And on top of that I’m so glad because I’m not the only one enjoying this all, you see~? A-and you even switched foods with me… you did not even care although the waitress mistook us as a couple…”

“I’ve never seen a person sobbing because the food is just that good,” he chuckles, patting my head. “I guess it can’t be helped that you are like that.”

“Y-you are going to laugh.”

“Not at all,” he slides to sit closer to me. “… How about this to prove my words...?”

We don’t say anything else after this—simply switching per cup so that each person can taste another person’s order. I’m leaning on Ares, and he really does not protest or make any comment now that my head is on his shoulder. This is comfortable. With the cats owning each of us as a pillow, being glued to Ares like this makes everything more convenient because we—ahem, me, specifically, considering he’s taller than me—don’t need to bend and weasel around just so we can pass our desserts for each other. Everything feels so nice, so serene… and somehow I’m not so tensed despite tomorrow (YES!) being our first match where we will be facing the solid, tough team of Manster. The sky looks incredibly beautiful too because it’s the Golden Hour now and tamer sunlight peeks inside the café, giving that lazy vibe perfect for the cats to nap as well. S-speaking of cats, wew, the orange tabby now occupies his hand because it lies on his palm like that!

“Maybe it wants to own you that it dislikes you sitting close with me like this?” chuckling, I pat the cat. “Look, it purrs. Cheeky bastard.”

“Sounds like you have a bodyguard then,” Ares chuckles back, contemplating the empty containers now that we have cleared our desserts.

“Oh—right. Let me put the bowl for you…” I want to get up but the maine coon moves to nap on me! Hnnn, I hate being short—again—because I can’t conveniently reach the table with both my glass and Ares’ bowl without getting up of this couch. Before I say anything else, however, Ares takes everything from me, reaching for the table simply by arching his body forward. Meanwhile the maine coon crawls further at me, lying on my chest like a baby instead of my lap now! “Haha, your cat persona has a rival!” chuckling, I feel it purring softly as I pet it. “But this kind of chains me to the chair…”

“… I’ve got two hands,” he murmurs, close to my ears as he encircles me like he is ready to get whatever I need from the table. Sighing, I lean on him. This is nice. This is way too nice. Nicer than Iuchar treating me cotton candy some time ago. And definitely I’d prefer this rather than ogling on Shannan even if he’s hot. And cute Arion—Arion who? I mean… it’s not because Ares doesn’t lack the look and all that. It’s because… because it’s Ares…

“Sorry for troubling…”

“I didn’t mind back then. Why would I now, of all these times?”

“Ah, Ares…” somehow I lost my tongue there. I really want to tell him something… something important, yet at the same time there’s this doubt, anxiety—and a little bit fear. Like—like I’d ruin it if I do. Because I… I want us to be like this for… a little longer…? Somehow…

“Why, do you want to take photos?” he chuckles.

“Teasing me, aren’t you,” I tick his nose. “Can’t! The maine coon sleeps on my purse.”

“… Then use mine,” he casually takes his phone out.

“Huh? Oh, is it okay?” really? He just… lends me his phone?

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he simply unlocks his phone before giving it to me.

“Even with—with us in them? I mean—you, being seen with me?” I really probably shouldn’t _gape_ now because he already made it clear, but…

“There is nothing shameful, going out with you,” his tone is so, so firm…

“… Likewise,” I whisper back. “So please—please, Ares—don’t ever see yourself as a pollutant again.”

“… I’ll try,” he rubs my back in a comforting manner. “I made you worried so much, didn’t I…?”

“Hnnn. Maybe in a way I did too. After all, you saved me a couple of times,” I pinch his ribs.

“I don’t mind and none of which is your fault.”

“Then likewise, perhaps I should… s-should take you out again?” g-gods, I said it!! I said it! I wish I wouldn’t have to sound so, so shy and demure like a girls comic protagonist, t-though. Oh, my…

He pauses a little. Reaching for the complimentary mineral water bottles the café provided us—and opening a bottle for me!—he clears his throat with the drink. I wonder if he wants to wash away his palate because… because like me, he gets tongue-tied s-since… I caught a blush blooming on his cheeks. His skin tone is fair, so t-that’s… that’s quite noticeable. He doesn’t seem to be a makeup-wearing type…

“Does that mean I get to pick the next place?”

His voice startles me. It’s easy to hide behind shyness now—too, too easy. It’s even easier to just yank his mullet considering we are glued to each other right now. But somehow I don’t want to. L-like Ares said sometime prior, there is time for one thing, and there’s another for another. And the truth is—I… I do want this too. I want his presence nearby. I don’t really understand why right now—let alone that he thinks I made him feel safe because… isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I’m not the one with a black belt here, you know? But that question aside, in the end of the day—in a rather similar manner when he was my guest for dinner and breakfast because of Coirpre, i-in the end of the day, I…

… I want him…

Like something feels missing if a day passes without throwing a jest or exchanging a text with him. This is rather weird, no? He isn’t the first guy I get close with—friendship or otherwise, but… but like… it has to be him. The rest didn’t really occupy my mind like this that I’m thinking how nice it would be if he’d just drop by to eat with me and Coirpre again—you know, things like that. I just—I just want him to be there.

Somehow…?

“Ah—y-yes…”

“Yes-yes, or maybe-yes?” he smiles at me. “It’s alright to reject, Lene. Just tell me.”

“B-but. But yes?!” I squeeze his hand. Perhaps this is not the _best_ way to feel less shy, b-but… my brain… “I mean—yes! YES! Pick the next place, I mean—so… yes!”

“… You are screaming again…” he chuckles. “Alright, rabbit. I’ll text you again then?”

“Sure? Or are you one of those guys who have falconry obsession or something? Oooh my God, it seems lately guys around me have a thing or two for old-timey stuff, you know? Are you into falconry? Are you going to send me a message owl or something? Is Diarmuid your shapeshifting owl considering you are only alleged human, so my rough guess here is that your entire family isn’t human! Also, your aunt is _too awesome_ to be merely human! U-ummm—oooh sorry for chirping!! Gods, I don’t know what happened to me! I swear, I didn’t mean to either! Um—I’m going to shut up. Mmm-hmm. For real this time!” what’s wrong with me anyway?! It’s either I get so, so shy that a cat stole my tongue or saying the dumbest things because… because somehow the nicer he gets, the more throbbing my chest is!

… Huh? Now wait a minute—

Eh, he laughs! H-how dare! But the good part is… uhhh, in his eyes, I’m not dumb then? Is that because he’s also dumb that he thinks it’s unfair to think of other people as dumb?

“Understood—I’ll text.”

“Thanks,” I don’t dare to look at him, so I squeeze his hand again instead.

… This time he squeezes back.

* * *

 

The match season rolls as Sunday starts! Coirpre nearly did not finish his breakfast because he was too nervous. He is only a substitute player, but the fighting spirit is high in this one. Gods, I know that it’s not my decision to pick who goes to the battlefield and who sits, but I hope he has a chance to play… he worked so hard for this… he picked himself up and everything, s-so…

Coirpre slips his hand into mine when we get close to the school. Upon meeting the teammates, however, his demeanor shifts, losing that scaredy cat expression as he firmly approaches them, to the smiling Ced, and… Ares. He is there, looking sharp in a comfortable sporty gray shirt and trousers.

There really isn’t much to be said between us because we get to rally our teams—him getting the boys to stretch and do small exercise with the ball to let loose, and the cheerleader girls follow suit with stretching and getting dressed. We hear vehicle being parked nearby, followed by chatters coming from what seems to be a merry crowd. Curiosity got the best of us all that we peek outside from the window.

It’s them—the Manster team. Everyone shifts, looking nervous and tense as well as equally excited. The Mansterians are pretty flashy with their entrance—their uniforms look sharp, and their cheer team is a full-blown six-people squad, all walking into the school ground with no less than confident expression on their faces. Understandable—they have been winning so far. And imagine how morally destroying it would be if they kicked our asses in our base.

“Alright, get ready,” Ares’ firm tone neutralizes all the brewing tension. “They are not undefeatable.”

“Do we do your tactic right on first round?” Ced asks. “I’m ready.”

“… No. Defend well,” Ares smirks. “And surprise them at the second round. I suspect they will assault your rear line and then shift to go into that infamous defender mode you talk of. They will want to score a goal so they can take the second session easier. Conserve your energy—we’ll need you to switch into a full-blown offensive mode after you wear them out later.”

“Understood!”

Everyone gets into the field to take their position while I herd my girls to the bench. Referee and two umpires start pouring into the field—well, this is merely inter-middle school competition so there really isn’t anything too big there, at least not until final. Ares and I follow behind to greet the opposing team’s coaches. Oh, here they come. Huh—I recognize one of them! That spiky silvery purple hair…

“Familiar face,” he looks at me. “Do you know Ishtar or something? I swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“I go to Jugdral-U, so perhaps you saw me on Instagram?” I extend my hand at him. “Lene.”

“Oh. Perhaps,” he shrugs. “Can’t believe I run into Ishtar’s footprints here. Her shadow seems to follow everywhere this black sheep just tries to live a life.” As if realizing that his tone has been rather bitter, he quickly waves his hand. “Ishtore. And this is my badass girlfriend Liza who coaches the soccer team.”

“I’m Ares. May the best team win,” Ares nods, giving the lady a professional handshake. Confidence sparks in her eyes the moment Ares mentions the supposedly neutral greeting because it’s like she’s so ready to go to war and everything.

“I hope so too. Thank you for cheering for us,” she replies casually. “Oh—sorry. You are an unfamiliar face, so perhaps you haven’t heard of the record so far?”

“What record?” Ares responds in the same casual manner.

“Oh. You’ll see though,” she flashes a smile before leaving us to retreat to their side of the coach box. Ares smiles a little, pursing his lips as he nudges me to get to our place too. Wise decision perhaps, considering I’d so love to slap this confident _bitch_ red!

“What the hell was that?!” folding my arms impatiently, I slam my bottom against the bench. “Damn.”

“Easy there, rabbit. Hurt?” Ares chuckles a little. “I don’t care. I said may the best team win, anyway.”

“Now I want us to win this one more than everyone else,” I bite my lips bitterly. “She doesn’t need to rub it on our faces like that, though. My, Ishtore is a sub.”

“Being underdog is beneficial, though,” Ares pats my back. “And just like she said—you will see.” Suddenly he musters that typical leonine face again, catching me off guard. He smells blood, I can feel it! Meanwhile spectators and parents from both sides alike have poured into the school ground, sitting and standing alike just to see their kids playing. There aren’t many spectators from our side, though—just parents who are mostly here out of convenience so they can pick up their kids after.

“Leeeneee!!”

Gasping, I turn around. That enthusiastic voice! That can’t be…

“Fee! Feeee!!” I wave back. She hops around with someone in tow—this purple-haired boy who is all smiles and laughter with a witty, biting smile. Huh? “Here for Ced?”

“Yep! And this is Arthur, you know, _the_ Arthur,” she smirks. “Babe, this is the Lene with a pet lion.”

I cough so hard while Ares snorts. Meanwhile Arthur merely chuckles. “Well, I’m here as a journalist, you know. Need something great for my class—and Jugdral-U bulletin, of course!” oh, right, the juicy bulletin Fee mentioned back then! I’m not a regular reader like Fee, but there were instances where I filled advice column there for like… twice and thrice. Arthur checks on his camera and camcorder before turning his attention at Ares. “Hey, I know you. The undefeatable blonde of the ring…”

“Shush now.”

“Calm down, man, I ain’t gonna snoop on ya,” Arthur grins, darting a gaze at the other corner. “So you guys met Ishtore and his domme girlfriend. Sorry, guys—my family is pretty wild.”

This time Ares snorts so hard because he dubbed Liza like that. The first kick-off starts, and with Arthur being a reporter for the match there kind of grants Fee some privilege to linger around as she pleases. She has no problem chatting up Ishtore and Liza as Arthur approaches them. Wew, I adore Fee. At least Arthur can keep a straight face despite not really looking like he and Ishtore share a great relationship.

I’m so tense myself. T-they kick. Thracian team has the ball now and Mansterian kids run at them like potent waterfall—looking as if reiterating that said ball is theirs, and anyone else touching it _dies._ “Gods,” I clasp my hands in front of me. I understand why they are _scary_ —they look like they are out for murder!

Ares squeezes my hand gently. “Trust in the kids.”

Ah…

The Mansterian kids press against us with such powerful offense. It seems Ares is right that they are trying so hard to score a goal or two so that they can just repel our kids in the next round using their famous lancer maneuver! As the game progresses it is clear that the Mansterian kids are displeased because they cannot get the easy goal as they plan. Our players flock to our side of the field, guarding the penalty box with everything they have that even strikers withdraw further to assist middle-fielders.

“Nooo!” one of the spectators shouts. A Mansterian kid smirks, stealing a ball. I catch Liza’s wolfish grin on the other side as Arthur rapidly takes pictures. But…

“No indeed.” Like thunderbolt Ced swipes the ball off that kid, kicking it so hard that it travels further to the other side of the field—the Mansterian side. Surprised, their rear guard kicks it back at us, considering their side of the field is practically nearing empty because their players group to assault us. But just like prior Ced swipes it with his head before anyone else can, throwing it away to save the goalie. What he did earns applause from the spectators, and unexpectedly…

I see Ares standing up, signaling the referee. Whistle is blown and Ced takes himself out of the field, grabbing a bottle of mineral water and a towel. “I’m out?” he asks.

“You are replaced because I need you for the second round,” Ares ruffles his hair. “Great job, Ced. Now rest. Remember—the second round is exactly when I need you on full speed.”

“Got it,” he sits on the bench with us.

“And the substitute?” I look at Ares now.

He looks back. And then…

“Your brother,” he taps Coirpre’s back with a smirk, surprising even Coirpre himself.

“I play?” he beams at him. “I’m subbing f-for Ced?”

“Do not let them get past you, rear guard.”

“Definitely! Bye, Sis! I’m off to fight!” Coirpre gives me a thumbs-up which I respond before he joins in a bunch of kids out there at the field trying to murder one another. Men are dumb. Why would twenty-two of them get sweaty and injured just because of one goddarn ball, by the way?

Meanwhile Arthur is back with Fee in tow. “Boy, the other side, though,” he _grins._ “She’s so unhappy.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Ares responds in a cheeky manner, earning mullet-yanking from me.

The game progresses. Coirpre throws away the ball outside the field, killing Manster’s dream to score a goal before this first round ends. As players return to their respective sides for a half-time, I clap my hands. Our turn now. My girls are quickly to answer my call like soldiers on a rally. Well, well, their team over there has six girls, looking equally determined with three lead on the front. I can faintly hear Ishtore calling on them to get ready—Vampa, Fetra, or something like that. Miranda is the first to approach me, ready in her uniform and pompom.

“ _Girls on Top_ as we planned?” she asks.

“No. The complete Thracia Invicta one,” I wink at them. “Make your voice loud enough to be heard~!”

They get onto formation. Manster girls perform a well-coordinated spectacular human tower with acrobatic moves in between. They seem to be so determined to take the field, one way or another, and not wasting a chance to demolish us all. Hnnn. Even Tinny is silent for the whole time they perform! “They are so good,” she whispers when they are done. “It’s so—explosive. They top us.”

“They’ll tire easily that way,” I gesture at the human tower they slowly dismantle. “Look—they don’t rotate. They are putting the same person for the same post instead of building a team with versatility. Remember—this is your school. First and foremost, people come here to watch _us_!”

“Right! Let’s get to work!” Miranda puts her fists by her waist. “Ooosh!”

I glance at Ares.

“What?” he gives me a playful innocent look. I whack his head which he then smirks about—it’s not hard to piece two and two together knowing Miranda previously asked his help to improve… kicking.

My girls come after. Tinny smiles adorably, waving at the audience while Karin tries to calm Sara’s stage fright by holding her hand. The friendship theme apparently lulls the audience more than the energetic performance from Manster because that’s what we aim to deliver—whoever you are, no matter what background you have, we all are here studying in Thracia Academy. And we can befriend each other. Miranda’s clear, loud voice when yelling _Thracia invicta!_ gives everyone goosebumps. Applause erupts while the other girls get into formation as I planned—with each showcasing their individual specialty and talent without the human tower like typical cheer groups do. Sara’s graceful sways, Karin’s lively steps, Tinny’s energetic performance with Miranda’s powerful moves successfully brought up an unlikely harmonious combination. Arthur is out at the field to take snaps and fixes his camcorder on a tripod while Fee helps him taking notes. Meanwhile Ishtore walks to approach me.

“… Non-mainstream I see,” he mutters.

“We believe we don’t need to trample on another just to reach the top,” I respond him politely. “That’s why I decide not to do a tower for this one. I’m not interested to debate you, though.”

“I won’t expect you to understand that being a Friege isn’t easy, anyway,” he snickers.

“I never said it is,” I nod to him before leaving. “However I don’t know the feeling of having a pile of cash ready to flush down the toilet if I so wish like a main Friege.”

I really should not let this get me. After all, I’m here exactly to fence the kids from being made to feel like they have no choice besides being a total loser this way. Right—who cares what happens to Ishtore in his house, behind closed doors, with his parents and Ishtar? I mean—not that I don’t care-I don’t, but like, why did he pull that on me like that? We aren’t the ones who put up a smug face like we are out there to kill or instruct our kids to. Haha, imagine sharing a district with them—if Ares and I were to be a parent with them as our neighbors, perhaps it wouldn’t take long before I got to finally claw Liza out. W-well! What a weird thought again—me and Ares, versus Ishtore and Liza? Hahaha, what is this, a middle school sports competition or a match-up show? S-sigh.

“Thracia! Thracia invictaaaaa!”

Yells and shouts startle me. I can hear murmurs and whispers as the girls pour their heart out at the field, closing it with the adorable friendship hug like what we did each time we finished training. My smile grows—some people are ‘aww’-ing and ‘oooh’-ing my girls, talking about how adorable it is to have them doing that. And seeing how different each of them is—posture and physical feature-wise, personality-wise… compared to Ishtore’s team which is undoubtedly full of talent but demanding more… uniformed discipline. I can hear some murmurs that my team appears so humane, so natural yet so cute at the same time. That really is the biggest compliment I’ve ever gotten so far—can I be proud? Can I…

A soft touch on my shoulder makes me tilt my head.

… It’s Ares. He smiles warmly at me as if he knows what I’m thinking. “You must be proud.”

“So must you!” I wink at him—our team did not lose a goal, and Mansterian strikers are currently eating their hearts out because their usual tactic did not work. He seems eager to reply me, but there is no time for that because players are pouring back to the bench, with Coirpre looking so pleased for doing his part in saving the keep. It’s so nice seeing him like that. It’s probably a small victory, but I don’t recall him to be this giddy after doing some physically-demanding activity. This is good, then. This is good…

“We held them,” Coirpre sighs like he just woke up from a pleasant dream. “Oh—gods. W-we did it!”

“You did it.”

“Ced…” Coirpre’s eyes sparkle, receiving a thumbs-up from Ced at the bench.

“Alright, great job, kids. Now that they couldn’t steal an early goal, there will be two possibilities,” Ares gather everyone, forming a close, tightly-packed circle. “Either they will do their typical defense tactic to make this one a draw, or they will go even more aggressively to steal a ball. I suspect the former because they pressed strong from the very beginning—chances are they are tired and their morale is low because they expect an easy victory. Either way, be prepared for both scenarios.”

“Then what’s the plan?”

“I suggest we proceed as we planned back then—the lure tactic to tire them. But remember—the moment you see their middle fielders proceed forward with their strikers, that’s the signal—they are going to pour onto you like flood. Bad news, we have to fight. Good news, they’re desperate. And remember, there’s always a blessing within hardship. Catch that momentum and strike back.”

“Ares,” chuckling, I lightly elbow him.

“… I mean, counter,” he remarks sheepishly. Hnnn. He should go back to take the ring…

“And if they go aggressive as you predicted?”

“Fight,” Ares smirks now. “Anger won’t help if your mind is clouded. Ced?”

“I’ve got enough rest.”

“Good. Get ready to run a lot. Coirpre, back to the bench this time.”

“I could play. I’m already happy,” he fistbumps Ced.

The whistle is blown again and we change sides. Their keep is now ours and vice versa. Fee clasps her hands and even Arthur is stunned for a moment, equally hoping Ced fares well before he realizes he is supposed to be there as a reporter. He runs his fingers in Fee’s hair before jumping to get the scope he needs, with his camcorder on and the camera dangling on his neck.

It is more brutal than I expect—perhaps the Mansters are indeed desperate that they want this victory more than everything else. Really? They trampled on us many times and now they are surprised when we fought back? Tsk tsk! Well, regardless of what is what, Ares is right—they really pull the lancer tactic, viciously fencing us from getting close. I see Ares focusing his eyes on their strikers… middle-fielders… and suddenly he shouts like a roaring lion.

“Ced!!”

Ced quickly tilts his head at us and nods. He tears himself off the others, trying to steal the ball from a desperate rear guard player who determines to hold their lancer position at all costs. The clocks keep rolling as they keep throwing the balls to the sides as a last resort, determined to hinder us from taking any goal. Someone bumps into one of our players so injury time is called while the medics rush to check on him. The good part is that it gives a little time to breathe, and Ares makes sure to check on Ced, who is all red and sweaty as he tries to keep his breathing stable.

“They are rough,” he pants. “But I can keep going. I’ll play until the end…”

Ares glances at me. He closes his eyes…

“Come here, kids.”

They follow obediently.

He spreads his legs. Keeping his fists by the waist, he makes a couple of moves, and I immediately know what he is doing. … It’s karate. He breaks his own oath… to save the kids. He wants to help. And it’s like he’s trying to numb his personal sentiment about not touching karate ever again in public like that. “Follow my pattern—inhale deeply, good—exhale with your mouth. Hold for four seconds. Repeat. No—don’t burden your shoulders, drop it until you feel it in your stomach. Follow Miranda—she’s good.”

Miranda is star-struck being complimented like that. They manage to do it about six times before the whistle is blown again. “Less exhausted?”

“Yeah. Better,” the kids mumble.

“When Ced gets the ball, help him and give your all—we fight. Keep your breathing like this as you run.”

“Yes!”

So it begins again and Ares returns to the bench, watching the match rolls like a lion. I sense his turmoil within, so I slip my hand into his again. “You are strong. I imagine that wasn’t easy, here and now…”

He gasps a bit. And then he smiles… “Not really. Only when I looked at you that I dared to trust myself.”

“… Eh?”

“You are stronger, Lene,” he chuckles. “You always are.”

I don’t know if he realizes it or not, but his fingertips are still latched onto mine. I don’t really feel like letting go right now. And he isn’t protesting, so… so I hope all is good. I squeeze on him each time our kids appear to be in a pinch, and each time I do it, he always returns—that gentle _warm_ squeeze; ever-comforting and reassuring that I feel safe. Suddenly I don’t really care if this is a match our kids have been so hopeful and dreading for—or some movie with a sunset and peaceful beach as a background.

… I like it. I like doing this with Ares—holding him, sitting with him like this. I like A—

“He’s got the ball!” Ares suddenly exclaims, reflexively stands up.

“O-ouch!” h-he’s been too enthusiastic that he didn’t realize my hand was still in his!

“Hmmm? Oh—gods. I’m sorry, did it hurt?” he quickly looks down, and…

Everyone rallies to help Ced, who dribbles like all his life depends on it. He nimbly evades the rear guards, destroying their formation in the process while other middle fielders help him outflanking them. With strikers making beelines to reach out to him, the field right now is hotter than a battlefield. The torn lancer formation is quickly taken aback when Ced kicks the ball hard to pass it to a striker, but…

… But my head is a bit cloudy. S-somehow. There is this heat, heat rising from my chest straight to my cheeks because Ares gently rubs my hand, closing his eyes a little as he lifts it. “… I’m sorry. Whole my life I did not handle things… softly,” he says in a low tone.

“Y-you can keep holding my hand! Sorry for yelping—totally unintentional.”

He pauses. Suddenly he smiles—again, but even more tender this time. “Thank you. Again, I’m sorry. You really are the first person… no, woman—I ever hold like this.”

… Eeeeh? W-why, why—I feel like blushing mad! “Not even—umm, Altena?”

“Altena? Why her?” he frowns a little. “I can’t hold her like this—if I want to double down on her, I need more technique and steadier grip because she can seriously kick my ass over the mattress.”

“Mattress!! O-oh—wait, you mean… sparring?”

“Sure?” he frowns even deeper. “She is the queen of grappling and armbar submission.”

“N-no. I mean. I MEAN!! … H-hold on. You truly… never? Like—holding hand...”

His expression shifts. Subtly leonine with a hint of mischief—yet his eyes remain… tender. “No, rabbit.”

I really wish I could—you know, have him explain it clearly, perhaps… but the match needs our attention so we sit again. I pat his hand which is now enveloping mine and that’s basically how we are for the rest of the match. The striker is so close to the Manster’s keep, and spectators yell and shout—equally tense and nervous; our side begs for a hope right now, while the other side is so taken aback because their prided tactic is botched.

“Awww nooo, he throws the ball to the back!” I gasp. S-so close! Why didn’t he shoot?

“… Smart kid,” Ares licks his lips.

Huh? Ahhh, right! Ced is waiting for the ball. Seeing the ball shifts, Mansterian defenders stop shadowing him like a hawk—they are pursuing Ced while that striker kid zigzags to reach the penalty box. Ced is fast. Ced is our fastest runner, seamless like the wind and he is never out of breath so far. Mansterian goalie yells so loud demanding his teammates recover their lancer formation to fence the keep, causing the strikers to halt their steps because rear guards stop their tracks. Ced is probably past his limit too—he has been keeping on full speed as Ares demanded since the second round started…

He glances back at forth—to the shadowed strikers, to the hopeful rear guards. Closing his eyes for a second he catches Fee, cheering so loud for him that her elbow goes on top of Arthur’s head.

“Pass the ball, you flatulent menace,” one of the Mansterian strikers grins at him. “It won’t get through. Our wall is unbreakable. Your strikers may as well withdraw.”

“… The wind goes into a room with the smallest gap it can find,” he steadies his breathing. “I’m still here.”

H-he shoots! That really is unpredictable because usually middle-fielders pass the ball back to the strikers, who execute an offense. But he just shot. Mansterian rear guards could only stare because they did not calculate he would. The ball Ced shot was so slow with sharp, powerful rotation like he put his remaining strength into that one shot. It flies past everyone’s legs. Mansterian players start to mock and chuckle because it looks awkward. Meanwhile Ced pales a little bit—and clearly, he can’t run anymore.

… Only for a short while, however—the ball grazes the side of the keep before making a sharp angle...

“Goooooaaaaal!!” everyone erupts—spectators and players alike! Parents gasp and start shouting praises at their kids, our supporters jump on their toes while Mansterian players are left speechless. Players pour into the middle of the field, enveloping Ced, ruffling his mane and lifts him up like a king. Coirpre runs and tumbles to get to him as well as other substitute players, while I…

“It’s a goal! Oooh, my God, it’s a goal… ooooh, t-they are blowing the whistle!! How come? I thought it wouldn’t… oh, my, oh—gods!” I keep shouting and yelling, my emotion overwhelms me so much I’m not sure I’m saying coherent things anymore. A-and on top of it, I… hug Ares!

Y-yes. I jump into his arms the moment we see the beautiful goal. I’m so, so happy and relieved at the same time that I thought I almost cried on his shoulder. I sling my arms around his neck, completely throwing my body into his embrace. He catches me, though. His broad, strong shoulders meet mine as his hand gently rests on my back. His other hand is parked on my head, like—he’s steadying me, but at the same time, it also feels like…

… Like he’s hugging back.

“Oh…” he awkwardly mutters.

“… Hnnn!” I wrap my arms around him. “S-sorry. I got too excited. You too as well—eh, it seems.”

“Can’t lie I’m not,” he chuckles gently. “Uh. I didn’t mean disrespect. I will just…”

“I’m so, so, so happy!! Oooh it’s because of you too~! Your tactic works! Thank you, thank you!!” I squeeze him. W-well, perhaps the other way around; he’s bigger and taller anyway, if anything he _is_ enveloping me more than not!

“Maybe they heard your cheer girls that it refreshed them—like your dances,” he scratches his head. “It’s the kids who played well. They almost gave up but then your cheer team saved the day.”

“Can’t you like, accept that you have been truly helpful for five seconds?” I pretend to be displeased, but the truth is… I’m so happy. And really, I do appreciate the acknowledgment. So far he’s the only person who seems to be genuinely marveled at us. With the majority of people already have the tendency to look down on us and misunderstand what we actually do, like being doubted whether we work hard, whether this even counts as sport, having Ares there—a sportsman and fitting to be an athlete that he is—gives me… overwhelming feeling. Perhaps I finally understand what people meant when they said those who matter won’t mind and those who mind won’t matter…

Suddenly he playfully taps my shoulder. “Likewise?”

I was just about to say something back when something flashes before us. Between the pouring kids who return to the bench with Ced on their shoulders, I don’t understand why Fee grins so hard—that’s until Arthur chuckles, putting down his camera! “I got a great shot,” he smiles, looking so satisfied. “You wanna see?” he settles himself between me and Ares, proudly showing the soft copy of whatever it was that he captured.

Oh—my—GOD!

Alright, first of all, Arthur does make a good photographer too. The rolls are full of the shots from the match, starting from preparations to kick-off moment, and he manages to capture some beautiful candid shots framing emotional moments from various angles—our kids’ tired expression, the despair from Mansterian team, the fierceness of their cheerleaders as well as the friendship smiles our girls wore the entire time they performed. Oh, right—there is a shot of Coirpre kicking back the ball he fenced at the rear line to Ced, making a Mansterian kid panicked because the ball went straight to… well, ahem—his balls. I probably shouldn’t laugh; thankfully that kid’s shocked expression and cringing like a goldfish makes me sympathized with him. S-sigh. There is also a fierce-looking Ares when he shouted at Ced. The light in Coirpre’s eyes when he was sent to the field. Liza’s hair flip as she commanded her team as well as Ishtore’s proud look the moment his girls took the field. But on top of that…

T-there’s a photo of me… and Ares.

R-right, it was when we hugged each other and held hands! AAAAA—

… Ahem! But what attracted me to the photos are not solely because it’s _my_ face that is at stake there (… s-stake?); rather… our… expressions. I really, really can’t believe that it’s me. Or rather, us. I looked so happy. So, so genuinely happy. Like I wasn’t this tired exhausted girl whose skin crawls because a man gets this close to me. And I thought I will never know this… feeling. With guys of my peers who seem to get turned off just because they assume things—worst things—about me as a dancer, just because I’m a caretaker of my younger brother, just because I seem to destroy whatever fantasy it is they have thinking I’m this sweet-yet-dumb demure girl they can fool.

… And Ares, too. I’m curious now—was he happy? His expression there was so, so peaceful and serene that if not for the distinctive features such as that mullet blond hair, I wouldn’t recognize it was him—or us, in the matter. He was smiling, not the kind of death-glare smiling, neither the dangerous hunting lion smile, nor the alluring leonine smirk which subtly barks mischief or vindictive action. He just… smiled.

“Oh, you caught our photos,” he says flatly while Fee glares at Arthur, anticipating Ares to snap his neck clean then and now. Arthur appears to be fearless just as much as Fee does; but if anything, I understand that my girls seem to have this silent understanding code that they are not to poke the dormant lion that is the Black Knight because only recently that he mingles with them—through me. And they are just in the process of getting to know him more, I suppose, as much as he slowly opens up himself to the world around him now that he gets to be… freer.

Arthur shifts, fiddling with his camcorder strap with an apologetic grin when he sees where Ares pointed. “Y-yeah. I can delete that, Black Knight—“

“… It’s Ares.” Oops, I corrected him out of reflex! Both guys look at me while Fee has that soft understanding, knowing smile on her face. “Uh—um,” now it’s my turn fidgeting. Well, Ares did not say whether he cared being called as such, but… but judging from all the conversations we had so far, it’s not like he is proud of it either. The alias seems to cause him more pain than it does him good…

Thankfully I don’t need to do more because Ares takes over the conversation. “Yeah. I’m Ares.”

“Well, I do know your name, nothing under Jugdral-U escapes me anyway,” Arthur replies, confused. Pausing a little while he slowly shifts, his pupils dilate as his knuckles make a _Eureka!_ gesture. “Oh, I understand now. If you prefer Ares, no problem, dude.”

“I thank you,” Ares purses his lips before bending down, murmuring so softly to me. “… And you.”

H-hnnn.

“See, people said you were this scary fucker and all that,” Arthur chuckles, waving his hand back and forth. “So like even those who know your name are kiiind of hesitant to call it because they didn’t know if you’d even like that. No problem, dude. I’ll have to run this story on Jugdral-U bulletin anyway, so you can bet with your whole majestic mane there that folks will see your name through and through.”

“It’s alright, man. I ain’t angry,” Ares grins like a horse. “Thanks, regardless.”

“Stop by the campus bulletin headquarter sometime, I’ll give you both free copies,” Arthur responds.

“Hold on—that isn’t free?” I goggle at him.

Like what Iuchar did he playfully rolls his fists around my temples in a comical manner. “Nooope. It costs like, penny-cheap but how do these print themselves, my bouncy-dancy friend, the kids who hunt for materials aren’t even really paid.”

“Oh, wow. My condolences.” Oooh gods, I really didn’t know. I thought there were plenty of grade-A socialites among the donors and the boards! It’s like public schools are doomed to be under-funded!

“Yeah. The problem with internships and the like, really,” Arthur sours for a moment. “Sure, experience for your CV-decorating purpose is fine and dandy, but people need to eat.”

“He says brilliant things sometimes,” Fee smirks before unhesitatingly pinches his cheek. “Well, if Ced is done being paraded like a fresh, full-fledged war hero, tell him I’m waiting with Arthur at the parking lot.”

“Yeah. I don’t really feel like being around my cousin,” Arthur grimaces. “… Especially his mother.”

They are gone. And kids are flooding towards us. Pride, satisfaction, and excitement blended in their faces—they even cheered for my girls, and thanked Ares for the tactics and breathing tips. I can see it—the burning confidence in their eyes, the renewed resolve… they have come to life. Really, I feel so much now—not just because of the kids, but because it’s Ares. People have cussed him so much even for things he did not even do, associating his name with doom and yet he kept... saving people. Perhaps he is not the lost cat I thought he was—he is that one loner passerby who notices everything without saying anything, but actively feeds stray animals and helps other passerby along the street.

… The lion, _my_ lion—

Murmurs and chatters are still vivacious and lively around me when we get some other news. Based on the latest update, right after we beat Manster with Ced’s decisive goal, the results from other matches came in as well—Isaach had won spectacularly four to one against Orgahill while Miletos curbed Verdane three versus two. Silesse thrived against the Yied by two versus zero, and the strongest contender as well as last year’s victor—Grannvale’s elite middle school—had a draw when facing Agustria because neither team scored. Grannvale’s draw versus Agustria will have no effect on us, however, because our next opponent is Miletos, which we will play around three days later and this time we will go to their school. I’ve heard that Miletos junior high is located around the heart of their trading hub, so chances are we will be venturing a highly metropolitan area with various shopping spree. This is good, actually, because I can use the days in between to finish my school work so that when the matches end I won’t be so suffocated by everything all at once. I’m going to be busy, but somehow this feels… exciting. Productivity is good. Better that way than already wheezing out of tense!

“Alright then, um…” I smile at Ares. Maybe it’s the victory euphoria that gets to me, but…

“Then the next place will be Miletos,” the corner of his mouth twitches a bit. “For us too.”

* * *

 

Jugdral-U is on fire this Monday!

… Well, figuratively so. A sudden arson probably will be nice considering that will mean I don’t have to goooo. S-sigh. Alright, how many people have _fantasized_ having their school being crushed by a convoy of angry dinosaurs? I’m sure I’m not the only one—or at least hoping your textbooks taste like pancake the more and more you stare into them.

Needless to say, Arthur had a mini preview for the bulletin which he printed on announcement boards. Great way to draw a curious crowd so that they will buy the bulletin when the latest issue is out. The sneak-peek includes reports for the upcoming Tirnanog Art Night and a glimpse of what the thespians like Iuchar have up next. They have been wanting to do a mini performance, exclusively for students instead of for a larger, generic crowd. This summer is going to be colorful!

My eyes fall on the headline of Arthur’s preview— _Field Knight: Meet_ _Our Own’s Coach of Thracia_ , it says. And there is a good snap of Ares looking sharp and powerful when commanding the kids to get in formation. And cheeky Arthur even puts a notice of the full story’s availability in the upcoming issue!

Wow, that _does_ draw a crowd. People are crowding announcement boards to take a look. I can hear their muffled surprises and chatters as more and more people stop to read the sneak-peek. “That Black Knight coached these kids to victory?” one of them whispers in disbelief. I see my name being mentioned a bit as the cheering team’s coach, but that part hardly shocked anyone who knows me because… well, I’m a dancer. And it’s only natural if I land a gig out there, be it as a performer or teacher. I wonder what Ares thinks about it, though—I don’t really feel like telling him, because while it isn’t actually bad in particular, at the same time I’m not inclined to play tell-tale.

I don’t see Ares for the whole day and neither does he contact me at all. I’m not disturbed, we are busy and I just want to slam some homework down so that I don’t have anything else to worry during the matches. Oh, right, perhaps making a hearty dinner for Coirpre! His appetite doubles ever since he’s been training hard for the matches. I got bonus too for our first victory, and the paychecks from small club gigs I got with Larcei’s DJ-ing with me or theater work I landed with Iuchar started making their presences in my account. Good, good. Life definitely feels good at this point, and best of all is that we were not in dire need that I can set the cash from Professor Forseti as emergency instant budget.

Time flies so fast that the upcoming match is on the way! There is a _bus_ waiting at Coirpre’s school by the time I get there so we can go to Miletos junior high to kill—ahem, fight them. I take more cash with me this time in case Coirpre wants some treats. We’ve never been to Miletos because… hahaha, what kind of miracle which would suddenly allow us to shop in Miletos in the first place?! But I figured if his teammates start eating snacks or buying trinkets and he is the only kid who does not get anything… I suppose it won’t hurt to have some extra spending like this. After all, I just got paid too, and this does not happen everyday. Who would have thought we would be going to Miletos anyway?

“Are you driving?” Coirpre asks innocently when Ares hoists up his duffel bag whilst lifting his black backpack at the same time.

“No, there is a driver,” he smirks a little. “I’ll take the back seat to supervise you kids while your sister takes the front seat with the girls.”

“S-scaryyy.”

I shake my head softly. “Listen—if anything, it’s good that he is at the back seat. If any of you catches motion sickness or has a need he is nearby to help, how about that?”

“You make me sound so sweet,” Ares replies gruffly.

“You are though,” giggling, I pinch his cheeks. Awh, he is embarrassed. H-hold on—I AM embarrassed! I just did that in front of the kids!! T-they look at me like I’ve done something BIG and UNFATHOMABLE just because… because I pinched his cheeks? And not only that, I can hear an awkward coughing, humming sound behind me—it’s the driver! He blushes a little bit, and knowing what it implies, m-my face goes red at an instant! AAAAA—

Ares returns to his seat with a straight face while the kids poke him here and there. S-sigh, he truly is not human! Peeking at him from under my lashes he simply tears a bag of chips—the infamously spicy cheesy potato chips everyone else seems to mention as a way to challenge their friends. And he even eats the chips with a straight face still! Darn it, at least cry or swear or something, you alleged demon!

Hnnn, I’m so tempted to pout somehow. And perhaps throwing a towel at his face too. D-don’t ask. I’m a big girl, I swear. S-sigh. Huh, my phone?

_Thank you kindly =]  
—AHN._

W-wew…

I take a peek at him again.

… He is still casually eating those murderous butthole-ruining inhumanely spicy chips!! He barely bats an eye, where did those chips go—astral intestines? Not a masochist, he said. My phone vibrates again…

_Pouting, rabbit?  
—AHN._

Oh so you want to fight, huh? And how did he know? How dare you implying I’m pouting like a rabbit! …

… Alright, alright, I _am_ , happy now?! Hnnnh!!

_Signing your texts with your initial huh -_-_

_Signifying authenticity._  
_Because I typed them, not the kids._  
_—AHN._

He’s always like that. But at the same time those little quirky things he does never fail to make me feel… sure. Yes, feeling sure that I can indeed trust him, and his words are responsible…

Alright, Ares, if you want to fight, then fight me~!

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Heheee you are sweet indeed!_

Sent. Sending photos via Instagram’s direct message feature is easier than converting the photo into a HTML file if sent through a text instead. So I reply his texts with… my face. It’s a selfie of me with the typical V pose I tend to make, winking at him. Alright, what is your next maneuver, Sir Lion? Fight me!

I wait.

Ha, Instagram says the message is seen! Hnnn—what sound is it again from the back… h—huh? Ares is coughing! Like suddenly coughing, letting out dinosaur-level cough which surprises everyone else because it’s like as if his lungs staged a coup, wanting to break out of his chest. H-he spills his chips all over his lap? Oooh m-my God, what in blazes?? The kids are patting his back and giving him water!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
OMG ARES!! Maybe you shouldn’t eat chips that Devil-level spicy!! D:_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Worth it._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
:O_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Haha._

There is no time to either legitimately replying Ares asking what he meant—or smacking his head with a cactus because with all these chit-chats, the bus finally enters Miletos. Before I prepare our things as we get closer to the rivaling school, however—yes, please don’t ask me why it has to be a cactus.

Anyway! The bus finally makes its stop at Miletos junior high. Oh, this is a beautiful private school. It’s pretty grand, clearly that those with money send their kids to go there. And wew, it’s located around the shopping spree area! Imagine being a kid who attended this school—their ideas of after-school relaxation would be visiting cafes and mall-hopping conveniently then.

The kids hurriedly get off the bus. Our arrival makes quite a view because Miletos kids stop whatever they are doing to look at us. Whoa, they are pretty flashy. As in, clearly that this is one of those private schools tailored for the rich. They look crisp in knee-length checkered pants and skirts with simple white shirts as their summer uniform, and under such presence—let alone a quite grand school with _elevators,_ mind you, our kids in their simple soccer team uniform—spare my girls who still don their daily clothing for the school of the day because they will change only when the match is about to start—kind of appear out of place. I hope this really does not get to the kids, though—I know how it feels to be so down just because everyone around you is so well-off or flashy—in terms of being successful or simply good-looking.

Ares seems to read my mind. After all, he ever experienced hunger too. And he ever worked in flashy, fancy place, perhaps more than once, more than just Bramsel’s club at the Yied. I hold Coirpre’s hand. He startles, but nods simply. “Let’s eat something for the lunch,” I announce then. Ares merely nods. And the kids follow us from behind, glancing back and forth, left and right, feeling marveled at the school which exists like some sort of an office or condominium complex at this point.

I pretend not to see Miletos kids snickering around us. Some whisper, calling us a peasant because the kids are just genuinely impressed by all the facilities and comfort in this entire building—the chill air-conditioner, the elevators, the beautiful, expensive ceramic tiles and even classroom doors which appear even better than what we have at Jugdral-U. If this is a sophisticated expensive university, I’m not going to bat an eye because it’s not like I didn’t know they existed. But this is just a middle school! The tuition fee might as well be on par with a college fee!

“That seems to be the cafeteria,” I nudge Coirpre softly. “Oh, it seems to be a platter system. Like you get what you want on the plate and they will price accordingly. Is that the lunch lady?”

“At least something appears normal here,” Coirpre chuckles awkwardly.

“Coirpre,” I take him to the sides, away from other kids who start occupying two of those communal long tables. Whispering a little bit, I bend my neck to reach his ears. “I have some money in case you want treats after this match. Sightseeing won’t hurt.”

“Really?” he beams at me. “Awww, Sis. You shouldn't have.”

“Well, this doesn’t happen often, so why not?” chuckling, I run my fingers in his hair. “So let’s just do the best for the match and get something nice later before we return to Thracia!”

“Oookay~!” he nods enthusiastically. “But you should too. I don’t like the idea of you starving just so I can eat,” for a moment he looks on the floor. “If you don’t eat, I’ll tell Coach N.”

“Haha, you will what now?” I really can’t contain my laughter! Outing me to Ares if I didn’t eat? That is actually kind of cute. If only I knew why it had to be Ares, though! Does this mean… ahem, so why don’t we just find out? I take Coirpre aside to venture the food booths as he is contemplating his selections while other kids take turn ordering as they settle their things on those long tables. “Say, Coirpre…”

From the corner of my eyes I see Ares sitting alone with a pile of backpacks, waiting on standby at the table so that the kids can eat. Hnnn. Why am I… getting star-stricken by Ares like this? I mean, I have now known that he _is_ kind. But there is always… always something in those little things he does, which always leaves strong impression on me somehow. Just like this one. He is gallant and responsible—other people usually will just have their kids to carry their things because, hey, everyone knows where they are supposed to be sitting. But not Ares. It’s always like that to him—kids and ladies come first!

“Yes?”

“Hmmm? Ah!” startled, I return my attention to Coirpre. Perhaps Ares is indeed like that. After all, he is only alleged human, isn’t he... after all, nobody knows how old he truly is, right…? He said he was twenty-one. And for how many hundred years he had been twenty-one?

“Sis?” Coirpre waves his hand in front of my face.

Gasping, I nod. Right—why is it so hard just to admit that Ares is just… _endearingly_ quirky like that. And somehow this quirkiness kind of drives me crazy. But instead of annoyed-kind of crazy, I’m actually intrigued and… a-and kind of loving it. O—oh, gosh. I just realized I’ve been thinking of him even more intensely in the recent weeks. I mean—I mean like, he has never truly left my mind too b-but like… “Say, Coirpre. Do you… do you like Ares?” I ask faintly. Suddenly this question feels harder to push out—no, not because this is difficult to ask, but like—like somehow I am _shy._ This is only my _little_ brother I’m speaking to, and he is not older than twelve, even! Why is it important wanting to know if Coirpre likes him or not? Even more so, I don’t want Coirpre to just like him—I want Coirpre to… eh…

… Accept him…?

“Hnnn? Of course I do,” Coirpre quirks an eyebrow at me. “He’s like reeeaaally strong…”

Oh, alright. I guess he’s just still a little boy who needs a figure to model. Hnnn.

“… But on top of that, he’s also reeeallyyy nice…”

Hmmm? “I see~! You like Ares too, it seems!”

“Too?”

Huh? Too? … Eeeeh?? “Of—of course! He is nice, what’s not to like?” I scratch my head.

“Yeah!! Coach N is just awkward. Like a cat. A very big cat who gets confused and disoriented?” Coirpre takes turn scratching his head. “Eh, ‘Iunno. Intimidating perhaps, but scary? Naaay.”

“Hnnn,” I can only nod. Right. Perhaps even Coirpre can smell his true species?

“I was wondering if you actually hate him, you know,” Coirpre pouts a little bit. “How come he never drops by our apartment anymore? Can’t we eat with him again? Or did he only come because I was sick?”

Hearing this somehow makes me so, so utterly relieved! Suddenly I squeeze my little brother into a hug, feeling sooo, so unbelievably glad and giddy hearing him like that. Haha, this is so odd. Back then I kind of begrudged Ares because Coirpre bonded with him easily like that. Because my older sister sense got rather protective and possessive thinking some _man_ eventually would steal my little brother from me as he is also growing up to be a man. That I worried Coirpre would one day wake up and decided not wanting to be _my younger brother_ anymore because there is this cooler Big Bro whom he thinks can give more—and exactly what he wants—as a boy. That one day he would only be here to tell me that I suck and he would have no need to play house with a sister anymore.

… But my concerns turn out to be… unfounded. I mean—there are reasons for these, yes. And perhaps coming from a hard life background myself I’ve seen and heard how the world or environment robbed young boys’ innocence as they grew up, shaping them into one of those faceless stereotypical alpha-wannabe douchebags I… no— _we_ , as women—know way, way too well.

And Ares is not like that. And Coirpre likes him. And Coirpre is still being my Coirpre despite all the things happened to him—us—and in the end of the day, the person who actually saved Coirpre from that dark side also turned out to be… Ares.

… Gods. I—I guess I cannot run any longer. I cannot _hop_ higher or further; it’s tiring and there isn’t really anthing anymore to look for—this isn’t saying Ares is perfect because _no,_ he is still a person… alright, alleged human; so like, of course he has his flaws. And not just about those endless brooding black or gray t-shirts he wears. Although actually, now to think of it, they are not even bad. The colors accentuate his golden mane and his complexion, really, and physically-speaking, he is not…

… N-not bad at all…

B-back to topic—and like, it’s not like I’m perfect myself. And Ares never disrespects me intentionally so far. Like he never makes any degrading comment about me regardless of what I put on me or what I don’t. Regardless of what I wear, what I do—never once he even looks down on my major. He is sincere in everything he tells me or does for me. Right, what did I say prior? What is not to like, right…?

But exactly. If Ares is that nice and gallant, can I even… _like_ him? What does he think of me? An odd rabbit who bounces around him, screeching and needs protection? Why does he stay around, even? Does he see me as someone worrisome who gets distressed easily and needs help?

… What a bummer. It’s nice to finally meet a good man, but not nice when you feel like there is nothing about you that seems to be awesome or captivating enough for this dashing good guy. Well, dashing and decent don’t always come hand in hand, you know. I feel like I’ve hit a jackpot and then zonk at the same time. Bummer. At least Coirpre likes him, so the very least I’m relieved that Ares is indeed good.

… I’m overthinking, right? I shouldn’t even feel this way, right? After all it’s a lion demon with parfait phobia who sulks like a cat like he is so personally offended by all the super sweet pastries in the world!

“Can I get those?” Coirpre tugs on my dress.

“Eh—sure,” I quickly snap out of my reverie. Enough Ares-yearning—

… Y-yearning?

H-haha, hahaha, it has to be yarn-ing. He’s a cat anyway. Yarn. Get it? Hahaha…

“Would you want some too, Sis?” Coirpre chirps again, pointing at the counter. Gosh, I didn’t even see what he was pointing at. What food was that again… huh, fried rice with spicy chicken wings? Not bad!

“Oh, yes! Let’s just order so we can sit,” I walk up to the counter to pay for both of us.

“Do you want the wings spicy?” the kind lady behind the counter asks with a smile.

“No. Just mild for me, please,” Coirpre quickly answers. Oh, right, he’s playing after this. Spicy? Hmmm…

“Got your food, Coirpre?” I nudge him.

“Yeah~! Thank you~!” he chirps.

… Spicy. Food. And other kids are ordering while he—

… Right. There is only one suitable way about this.

I tail Coirpre back to our table while the counter lady is still setting my food. Ares is contemplating on his own soccer notes, perhaps drawing more inspirations from those warfare manuals he collects. Hnnn. He tilts his head when he sees us returning to the table, smiling at Coirpre… and me.

“Done?”

… My courage is speaking. Without saying anything else I simply take Ares’ arm to follow me to the counter. He is a little bit surprised but he just follows, anyway—as always, as always; like he truly trusts me regardless I’m just playfully messing with him or not. As always, he never swats my hand away, even before we get to be close like this.

… Can I even say we are close? Even if I can’t, what I just said is… true. And he only swatted Altena’s hand away when the topic became too difficult for him to talk about. Ares is always so Ares. So Ares…

“They have spicy wings,” I point at the counter, smiling. “I thought you would want some…” I take my order when the lunch lady is done plating them. “Sample one?” taking one of the chicken wings, I gesture it at Ares.

“Oh, thank you,” he responds with the typical awkward dorkish tone he has whenever he is taken by surprise and opens his mouth so I can feed him. “You are having these with Coirpre?”

“Yes!” chuckling, I move a bit so we don’t hinder other people from ordering. “Want some too?”

He smiles faintly. “… Not a bad idea,” taking turn to queue before the counter he asks for some too, and I can’t resist smiling because he asks for the lunch lady to make his food to be spicier than what I got, but leaving one particular chicken wing on medium level.

We return to our table where Coirpre and other kids have done ordering. My girls crowd around me, chirping how Coirpre, Ares, and I got the same food and it’s so cute because we accidentally made it like some sort of family lunch! S-sigh, alright. I really wasn’t thinking much when I told Ares there’s spicy fried rice and chicken wings there! I opt out not to comment on anything and concentrate on my food instead. If I didn’t get awkward, they wouldn’t find a chance to tease me! Hnnn.

I’ve been eating like a velociraptor because this awkwardness-inducing shyness is _deadly_. However unexpected to me something comes from my side, landing into my plate. Tilting my head to look at it, I find something… something…? “Huh, chicken wing?”

“Now we are even,” Ares merely nods at me. Hnnn? … _Oh._ Oh so that’s why he asked for this one not to be made extra spicy unlike the rest. Again, he just needs to be Ares, huh…

There is no time to feel star-stricken by Ares again because we need to finish our lunch and gets used with Miletos’ soccer field. After totaling the cost of Coirpre’s lunch with mine, it is surprising because unlike what I predicted before, the price did not suffocate my wallet! Ahhh, lucky~! Or perhaps I miscalculated because Miletos’ reputation as a trade hub already intimidated me?

“That was good!” Karin grins, rubbing her own belly. “The food is so homey like eating at your own house. I can’t believe we could find something like that in Miletos…”

“… But why did the students not eat with us?” Sara interrupts with her soft voice. “This isn’t a typical lunch time but it’s not like we are _that_ late. After all, we are going to play against them.”

Huh? Oh, right! I saw staffers, janitors, but there was no single Miletos student there. I’m trying to calm everyone down because this isn’t the time to be concerned of small… technical things. For the first time we are playing outside of our own field, and I know even the slightest convenience can make everyone nervous. So I clap my hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Last stop before the field, kids—bathroom! Flush down that nervousness. The boys can follow your beloved Coach N over there~!”

“Your beloved Coach N you mean? Oh, wait—no—Darling Ares?” Coirpre hides his laughter, so with a heavy heart I have to squeeze his cheeks until he gasps and begs for my mercy.

“That’s not the way to talk to a coach!”

“Y-youww aww stiww maww siswtewww,” Coirpre whines because I’m taking his cheeks hostage. “Rather than that, ‘Coach N’ does not sound like the right way to call your boyfriend!”

“What is this boyfriend discourse again? Relieve yourself there or I’ll personally kick you!”

“Hnnnh! You are scaryyy!”

“That’s right, Coirpre~! I _am_ the one with a temper here, not him!”

“Is everything alright, rabbit?” c-crap! Now Ares peeks in! Coirpre grins like a _little shit_ that he is, like he is so proud for being able to crack a code or something. Ares glances at the bathroom again before smirking a little bit. “… Don’t invade men’s bathroom this time.”

“If you are not torturing anyone inside, sure,” I pout, understanding well what he is referring to. “Actually, no—I beg of you, please torture my insolent little brother.”

“Rejected. I need my players and children are off limit.”

“Alright then. Too bad, Coirpre,” sighing, I’m about to enter the bathroom when Coirpre sticks his tongue at me. Glorious _shit_ little brother of mine then chirps again—this time at Ares, asking why he keeps calling me rabbit and whether I have a nickname for him!

“Ah. Well, she calls me various names,” I can hear Ares’ flat tone from here.

“Oooh reallyyy~! What is your favorite then, Coach N~?” judging from his tone, I can picture Coirpre poking Ares in the ribs in the same manner like me!

“My favorite, huh? Let’s see…”

Holy hell, I nearly swallow an entire toilet paper roll! Will he answer? Wait—so he _indeed_ has a favorite nickname?! What’s the use of those wazas and karate-whatnot just to assert that he is not a masochist. Liar, liar, pants on fire! Might as well take it off to reveal a tail!

… Again, I assure you, I’m a big girl. S-sigh.

And like the big girl I am, I’m frozen inside this toilet cubicle. Answer, darn it! Somehow this feels even more nerve-bombing, waiting whether he will say anything or leave it hanging like some thriller or action movie scene. Slowly, slowly as if I’m trying not to attract action movie villain’s attention I quickly get myself done, very gently opening the cubicle door as to not make a sound. Again, like a good dad—ahem, coach—Ares waits until all the kids are done before he takes turn with the bathroom. He is responsible. So Ares. So…

“… It’s Ares.”

H-huh?

“Really? You said she bestowed many nicknames.”

“Indeed she did. Isn’t your sister creative?”

“… And you are amused by all of them but like it best when she just… calls your name?” Coirpre replies, confused.

“Yes.”

He delivers his answer firmly—with that typical certain, assured tone and I cannot picture anything but that trademark deadpanned face at this point. Coirpre mumbles about it not being fun, and Ares simply chuckles, sounding like half-joking half-seriously apologizing for not being able to give a more interesting answer. After all, he says, he hardly ever does fun with other people. And he genuinely likes hearing me calling his name like that because it feels like forever when people around him aside of home calls him Black Knight. He does not say anything else after that, so perhaps he’s gone inside the bathroom this time. But really… he just… he really thinks it’s nice because someone unhesitatingly calls him by his name to begin with? … Awh. He really made it like I did him a great favor…

… Did I? I was really wondering if that was ever the case, anyway—like, do these people even realize he has a name and that he is not always there to destroy things? Someone awkward like that, sadistic enough to pick random fights and gloat at the sight of people tumbling on the ground? Even when the reason calls for a justified KO—like the way he fought those dudes at the Yied—he did not even look happy! If anything, he looked so sad like he truly wished he did not have to end things with his fists!

… If he likes hearing his name like that, then…

“Done, girls?” I glance around, finding my girls are out of the cubicles and now redoing their outfit and hair. Chuckling, I walk up to them wanting to spare some encouragement because the match will start after this as they’ve begun slipping into their cheerleading uniform, but…

“Ew, stinky. Smells like a peasant.”

Eh?

I was just about to step outside, but something stops me. Around four tall intimidating Miletos girls crowd the door, with my poor little soft Sara in the center! “I really can’t believe you Thracian peasants even dared to step into our school! How did you even manage to win against Manster, anyway?”

“Um… is something amiss? Y-your school is very cool. I mean, nice air conditioner as well! Umm… t-the cafeteria is nice too…”

These three foxies-wannabe laugh like a banshee upon hearing Sara’s honest-to-God answer. “Yeah! Sure it’s nice to be able to eat something you can afford, no? That’s not the cafeteria school, by the way, it’s the staffers and janitors’ canteen!”

“Oh, I see…”

“Right? Why are you even here? Go home already! What’s that, wanting to cry? Geez, how pathetic. Just this and you cry? Come ooon, I’m sorry you are poor. It’s not like we directly cause you to be.”

My blood boils. You have my playful temper, now you have _my_ temper. With steady paces I approach them, reminding myself that these are nasty thirteen year old kids who just happened to be ultra rich and on top of that are just… kids in puberty. And alright, a bit of an asshole. But like, easy, Lene, easy—don’t kick their asses. Grrrh. I’ll kick their parents’ asses then! “Can I help you, _kids_?”

“C-Coach Bragi,” Sara whimpers, quickly tearing herself from this crowd to hide behind me.

“We are just joking,” they said, staring wide-eyed because I don’t back down or buy their reasoning so easily. “Uh—a coach from Thracia, uh, Miss?”

“You are _bullying_ my pupil,” I stare at them. “I want an apology.”

“I-it’s not serious. It’s how we welcome guests here in Miletos!”

“Really? Then I’d like a word with your headmaster.”

“T-the headmaster?!”

“Did I stutter, _brats_?” I calmly approach them.

“Y-you called us names! We are only children!”

“Bragging your parents’ money! If you were my peers, I’d have called you _assholes_.”

“W-what?”

“Right. Are you apologizing to my pupil, or do I need to have a word with the headmaster?” my hands are on my hips now. “And I really don’t care if it stalls the match.”

They stare at me. Holy hell, these little princesses perhaps have gotten away being like this most of the time! They shrink upon realizing that—yes, they got chided by a stranger; yes, they went aggressive against a stranger too, who did not do anything besides coming to their school as part of the sports team! And what was our crime again? Oh, right, using this bathroom. Even if your toilet is made of pure gold and platinum, in the end what is it used for? Taking dumps, no? And you wanna pull a Friege on me?

Hesitantly they mumble an apology to Sara. Miranda and Tinny have exited their cubicles while Karin gives me a silent thumbs-up with a grin. I’m not doing this to be cool. I’m doing what is _right_. Do not call me a coach or teacher if I cannot even protect my students!

Huffing, I find Ares with the boys outside. Suddenly I’m feeling so overwhelmed. I’m poor. I never know how it feels to be so filthy rich that I can just flaunt my wealth right at another person’s nose like that. And I know they did not bully me specifically—after all, I am an adult. Still, everything that they threw at Sara somehow felt like a stab at me. Because I got that often—perhaps more than I wish it to be. Those meaningful stares, the way it secretly conveys that I don’t belong there. That I’m not supposed to be there. That I should be aware of my origin—I _am_ aware, darn it—I grew up in an orphanage. I’ve been approached with shady messages I suspect from unlawful night clubs and there were nights when I was legit scared one of them would kidnap me and made me into a trafficked prostitute—simply, simply because it started as making me feel like I have no right to breathe the same air like them.

… The kind of stares Scipio and Ishtar’s capo trio give me during our accidental encounters—at the grocery store, at some events, at makeup counters, at innocent strawberry milk tea counter where they would bitch about me throwing money because I’m stupid and only pretending to be poor—while throwing and wasting money themselves. I visit these stores to grab bargains—I’ve been doing that all my life that I almost remember their big sale seasons and which gives out or receives coupons. You think it’s easy? You think managing your own finances without a mother is easy?! You think not shrinking and carrying yourself with dignity whilst your stomach growls does not require nights of contemplation?! You think a kid loves to wake up realizing they are poor—or that her mother has left her?! YOU THINK?!

.... I…

Outside, Ares is clapping his hands urging the kids to head to the field. I slip my hand to squeeze Sara’s, finding her courage returning as she slowly gives me a resolved nod. Meanwhile, Ares and I are walking behind them—right to reach Miletos’ field. His eyes are fixed on me, and I wonder if he actually heard the confrontation just now. Was he done with the bathroom when it happened? I could hear his conversation with Coirpre, could he hear mine? Well, I’m not okay. And I feel so shitty for wanting to knife a kid …. Again, I don’t know where I even got the courage from—I squeeze his hand.

He looks down. And I quickly release, if… if that is the case—he holds still instead.

“We will win this match.”

… So he heard? Regardless, he is still being Ares as usual…

We have to get into the _elevator_ to reach their field because apparently they install an _indoor_ field to accommodate all their sports need. Alright—first of all, understandable considering Miletos is a concrete jungle and full of skyscrapers. What I did not expect is, the indoor field is at their rooftop—penthouse!

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _This feels surreal. This is absurd. Ahhh where am I, is this even a school??_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Hey Lene where are you, are you being kidnapped?! D: **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_pheeew_ ** _KIDNAPPED? HIJACKED BUS?? CEEEED??? **@windrider** CED PICK UP THE PHONE YOU ARE MY ONLY BROTHER I DO NOT HAVE ANOTHER MOM IS AGAINST CLONING **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _… Is being dumb a rite of passage for you Nordion men or **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

… I am SO grateful for Larcei. She is the only genuine human among these alleged deities I call friends. Hold on, what if Larcei is the actual demon here, which explains why my friends are like that? What if the Nordion guys are actually very-humane human which explains why they are endearingly dumb?

 **_windrider @pheeew_ ** _… If we were all kidnapped how would I even pick up my phone, sister…_

Ced is too smart for this world.

 **_anblacknight @dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Lene—kidnapped? … Don’t drag her into your weird fantasy._

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _DUDE BRO FUCK ARES THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT **@anblacknight**_

 **_lightprincess @dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _… D?_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid @lightprincess_ ** _NANNA I AM STILL THE SAME BROTHER YOU KNOW_

 **_anblacknight @dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _… In other words, the same pervert?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _What is happening… ^^;;;_

My notifications are flooding again but at least this time I get to clarify everything that I’m just _humanely_ shocked because, wew, why isn’t anyone telling me we are playing in a hotel? But regardless, yes, it is still a rooftop field even though the school isn’t a hotel-level skyscraper. N-not to pull that older sister mode, b-but… sigh, back in my time we play outside. But then again perhaps rich people are not even fully human. S-sobs.

They have no cheer team. This has to be the most boring match I’ve ever seen, perhaps because the people there are just appearing to be bored and equally dead like we do not even deserve a greeting. Now I wonder, if they don’t even like soccer, why are they even in the ballots? Or… ah, did they expect to fight Manster and felt severely disappointed because it’s us, the peasants, who show up instead? Well sorry, as if it’s our fault! Hnnnh!

But with them being like this, I’m rather put off. Should I even send my girls as always? This does not even feel like sport anymore, it feels like a rooftop fight more than anything. Perhaps they think they are too good for these things that they stopped caring? The situation is depressing. I can see it in the girls’ eyes as well—they are rather heartbroken and intimidated, like, if I send them to cheer, with all these cold welcome and apathetic stares it is easy to feel dumb, swinging pompoms. At least Manster has energy. The kind of fierceness which keeps everything lively!

“Um. Sorry, but—but where is your cheer team?” I glance around again. Really, we are truly left with referee and umpires—and their kids! Where even are their coach… um, coaches? The referee comes up to me, awkwardly saying that basically they are all that we are meeting today. It does not take much until I realize that Miletos might expect to fight Manster but only find us here waiting as their challenger.

“I’m sorry, if only we could help…” the referee smiles apologetically.

“No problem. Their loss, really,” I smile back, relaying what I got from the referee to my team.

“That’s badass of you,” Ares comments. “But then again you always are.”

We decide to just do everything as usual—no changes, and my girls will roll even if they did not send anyone. Their kids play half-heartedly while we are so pumped. Still, it does not really feel nice because our opponent is playing like they are just hoping for everything to be over soon. Their kids simply shrug when we manage to score our first goal, and as one of them goes to pick the ball rolling at my feet, I just cannot hold it anymore.

“Are you guys alright playing like this?”

“What do you mean?”

I get it. In the end of the day they will still reign as one of the elite schools in the entire Jugdral, anyway. But… are the kids okay? Either they completely lose their fighting spirit or that they are really apathetic. “Losing to peasants like us? Like this? Without fighting?”

“The kids over there hoping for a grand welcome, huh, Miss?”

“Perhaps. But personally, I don’t care. I thought I knew _you_ would want to play well, though.”

They look at me, and then at each other. Seems realization slowly enters their mind when they return to regroup. I return to my side, watching Miletos kids observing my cheer girls when they perform. And I see it—the shifting gaze; as if life slowly comes back to their eyes. This is sad, honestly—this school’s arrogance is that strong that they would rather curb their own kids’ spirit rather than—I don’t know, letting sports stay as sport worthy of fair play. And supposedly we are responsible because they are unable to fight Manster? Come on now!

“… You woke them up,” Ares nudges me, grinning at the kids. “I saw that kind of look often—like a whitebelt eager to keep going despite being bruised and beaten.”

“… Oh, gods. I didn’t realize,” sighing, I slump on my bench. “I simply pity those kids, but if they want to defeat us this time, I just… made things harder for our kids, d-did I not?”

“It’s okay! If they keep being like that, I don’t even feel like winning,” Ced mutters.

“Haaa! Right, come what may! We’ve scored a goal anyway,” Coirpre chirps from the bench.

“Our kids are strong too,” Ares pats my shoulder. “Trust them a little bit more.”

“Hnnn. Alright,” I simply nod, returning to the bench. There is indeed a change in their play—more energetic and powerful, like being unceremoniously woken up. Well, who knows whether it is in the name of sportsmanship or they just _hate_ losing to unworthy peasants like us, but either way, the match feels fairer this time—previously, it feels like robbing an old lady or taking candies from toddlers!

They press hard. My girls cheer even harder. And some of the Miletos kids sincerely clap when the girls are done. If only it could just be like this—who says opposing team cannot respect each other? Even Ares said blackblets respect one another, regardless they do the same style or not. Ah, poor Miletos kids. Even more so when Ced shoots another goal in the forty-fifth minute, eheheh. But really though, seriously speaking—yes, poor Miletos kids!! Hnnn!

The whistle is blown again—three times, stopping the game. My kids hug each other while the Miletos kids keep a flat face. I don’t care. I’m sorry—but technically speaking I should not even tell them that, and we have spared courtesy more than what we should, really. We managed to get through by three against one, and I hope this conceited school’s board will have something to enjoy for the rest of the week. Now, to see who is going to be our next opponent because Grannvale is still playing on additional time against Silesse—both being really tough, potential teams!—while Manster is trying to salvage their position in the board by trying to defeat Verdane. Based on the news I receive from Ares, Yied has just won against Orgahill while speedy Isaach holds the proud Agustria on a draw.

That practically alarms me. So far the only confirmed victories are ours and Yied, and I dread that means we will need to play against them—which means… going back to the Yied Avenue. With Ares in tow. To that godforsaken region where I was assaulted too. Gods. Can’t I hope for a little miracle here? I’d rather fight the strong Agustria rather than going to the Yied again—knowing well it’s… well, like that, and their businessmen such as eugh—Bramsel—holds a stake in many business areas.

Ares appears to be concerned while my kids spring into their heart’s content after this victory. They smirk and grin, taking advantage of Miletos’ nice, sleek luxurious bathrooms and changing rooms like they are heading to a party. Regardless, it is so close! Just two more matches until we reach the final. Two more… and I’m going to feel good even if we emerged as a runner-up instead of the champion.

“Miss?”

I tilt my head. A couple of Miletos kids approach me, looking rather… sheepish? Like the way kids a shy person wanting to approach and talk. “Yes?”

The school is like this. There are rich kids who are just… being rich kids. But they are still kids…

“Thank you,” they rub their noses, clear that they are getting awkward. “I mean—we thank you.”

“You are welcome~!” yeah, I am truly, truly smiling this time. They sheepishly smile back, rejoining their team. Hehehe~ so it is not so bad, after all… turning around, I even find Ares making a military salute at me. Like—he is _beaming_ at me. Haha, what now, Ares, meow, am I that awesome? Hehe!

Still, this is a glorious breakthrough for us regardless whether Miletos wanted to fight or not. Three against one! And there is still time to spare before we get to return to the school—I suggest that we spend some time here to evade rush hour so that the traffic will get to be a bit calmer when we need to ride back home. We got here when the traffic was pretty much merciful because it was in the middle of the day when peak activity had calmed down. The kind referee directed us to one of their prominent malls so we could have an all-in-one sightseeing experience with the limited amount of time we would be spending here. The most we can stay is around until dinner as it would take about two to three hours of ride back to Thracia, and it around four right now. Two-three hours being in a big mall should be fine, I figured, and of course I’d rather send the kids back when it’s convenient so that nobody gets too tired just because of the ride alone. Hmmm, I’ll tell Ares they can sleep on the way home if they wish!

The bus driver decides to settle at a nearby coffee shop after waiting on us inside the bus for the whole time. “When you are done, just give me a call,” he smiles kindly. “Kids need sightseeing. I understand.”

“Why don’t you come with us~?” I offer then. Because… n-not just the kids. Of course I’m personally curious of Miletos as well. Hmmm… let’s do a quick glance here and there. Who knows, perhaps I can land a better gig here if they are wealthy? And this place sure appears safer than the Yied! Perhaps if the money is just that great, the distance is worth it.

“I can use some quiet me-time,” the bus driver chuckles. “Thank you though—that was nice of you.”

Ah, alright! He even maps the avenue for me, stating that the mall is what we passed when we were heading to the school. The bus would be parked somewhere near a hotel that is close to the mall and the coffee shop, some steps from a red light so we can easily find it. Ares listens to everything like he is burning the street into his mind. Perhaps something tickles his urban planner radar.

It is actually fun, herding a group of kids to a mall like I’m this teacher walking a group of class to a museum. Ares follows the kids from behind while I take the frontline—protective that he is as always. The kids are enthusiastic—perhaps because they won big, too, and I can’t contain my smile when they keep chirping, casually exchanging lines between each other when they see a game developer headquarter finely reigning right before their eyes. It does not take long until the kids go oooh and aaah, reciting all the games they have played or their friends need to, supposedly developed by this team.

We find the mall. It is grand just like nearly everything else that is in Miletos. Chilling air conditioner slaps the cool air right before us when their automatic door opens the moment we are close by, and I gather everyone near the information board located right the moment we get inside, close to a security post. “Alright, kids. Here goes,” I tell them then. “You are free to roam around, but be here, right here near the security in around two hours later, alright~? There are sixteen of you—eighteen with the girls, so I’d rather you split into groups. Don’t hesitate to give me or your dear Coach N here a call.”

“Yes. This place is pretty huge—if a stranger offers you anything, anything at all—run,” Ares nods.

“Yes! Take care of yourselves~!” I wink at Coirpre. “Safety is important now, please be sensible, alright?”

“I was about to say I’d take care of you,” Coirpre pouts.

“I _am_ the older sibling here, Coirpre, you keep forgetting that!” I roll my fists around his temples again.

“Ouuuchhh meanie! I’m a big boy now, we can take turn!” he gasps.

“Your pocket money is still with me, say what again?”

“Hnnn. If you keep protecting me, then who will protect you?” Coirpre whines.

“I can do that.”

I stop oppressing Coirpre. He stops whining. We both glance at Ares who just conveniently cut in with a straight face. Coirpre slowly grins. “How about you just hand me the pocket money…”

“And letting you roam _alone_ considering your friends have started exploring?” I pinch his cheek. “No.”

“Awwh sucks. But at least Coach N gets to be with us,” suddenly Coirpre takes a hold of Ares, swinging his arm back and forth like a spoiled kid. “Come on, Coach N~! I’ll just follow from behind.”

“No. _You_ walk in front of us so we can supervise,” Ares smirks, gently tugging Coirpre by his collar. “Do not mark me, junior rabbit—I do that first.”

“Sigh. Alright, Dad.”

“Coirpre!” I really, really pull his ear lobe now. My face reddens nicely at this point—really, why must he? But Ares merely chuckles, shaking his head while Coirpre sticks his tongue at me and begins walking. I really, really, cannot face Ares like this. H-how should I?! W-what he will do next?! Uuugh, Coirpre!!

“… Shall we?”

I lift my head. He is waiting on me, quietly sparing an understanding faint smile while I want to die. “I—I’m sorry! Really, he is often like that, saying things without thinking when he is too excited! P-perhaps he just likes you—uhhh, he did not have many friends growing up s-so… um, on behalf of him, I—“

“Did I even say I dislike it?”

“N-no. But like…”

“Then no problem, isn’t it?” he chuckles again. “If anything, I’m glad that he likes me.”

“Really?” I must have looked so comical when I said that, with pursed circling lips and all that. “Hnnn. Is that important for you? I mean, I get that you want the kids to get used to you, but…”

“… Lene, the last thing I want would be intimidating children. But with Coirpre, I…” suddenly in a totally unexpected manner he tilts his head at me, flashing me a gesture I thought I would never, ever gotten. This is Ares we are talking about. At least even the Ares I’ve come to know will never… stick his tongue at anyone. Yet there he is, doing just exactly that. Not even my wildest dream—

… Listen, I’m not dreaming about him!! Hnnn! Alright, where were we…

O—oh, right. He _stuck his tongue_ at me! I should have gotten Diarmuid’s number too—does he even know his oh-so-scary cousin jokes just… made a face? Oooh my God!

“I don’t mind,” he concludes his sentence, yanking me off my reverie.

“But why?”

“Hmmm. Personal reasons,” he chuckles again, patting my head unreservedly. “Let’s go.”

“If you use my head as an arm rest, I’ll murder you,” huffing, I start walking with him while Coirpre stops every second to admire nearly everything he sees. “You seem so happy.”

“Perhaps?” he simply rolls his eyes in a rather comical manner, humming while maintaining that mischievous smirk he flashed with that unexpected face he made.

We keep walking again until Coirpre catches a familiar glimpse of Ced and Tinny waving at him from a nearby bookstore. Behind them, the bully strikers awkwardly wave too, looking so awkward and embarrassed because they have been tailing with both—to the bookstore as well! Not far from the bookstore, Karin, Miranda, and Sara have gone with a few other kids to a nearby electronic store, sightseeing a couple of cute headphones. Coirpre softly tugs on me—

“You want to go with them?” I ask softly. He scratches his head, giving me a small nod. Shaking my head with a smile, I open my purse to take Coirpre’s hanging-out allowance money I’ve set separately in an envelope. “Here. Have fun.”

“I’ll spend really wisely and return the rest to you,” he beams at the envelope.

“That is great, but have fun as well—money can be earned,” suddenly I feel a little guilty. He often takes packed lunches to school and with the train card I rarely give him cash money like that…

Coirpre thanks me profusely before running to catch up with Ced and the others, leaving me alone with Ares. He simply follows wherever I go—even not batting an eye when I drag him into one of those accessory and gift shops! That might as well be called cutesy nest because it’s one of those shops which has everything—colorful cute gift wrappers, accessories, and even rare, creative nail polish, mugs, and plushies! The place is like a dreamy dollhouse with various trinkets. I curiously glance at Ares because—yeah, all the visitors are girls! W-wew. But he just treads aisle every aisle, undisturbed—not even frowning that I practically drag him to a really so-called girly place like this.

“Uh—is this okay for you?”

“Yeah? Why not?” he quirks an eyebrow, confused that I even ask.

“Never mind,” I pat him. “Heheee, you are nice.”

“I don’t understand…” he rubs his nose, confused, but I already playfully take a ribbon and set him to face one of those beautiful mirrors available in case customers want to do try-outs.

“Let’s see~!” I quickly weave his golden strands into a quick braid, gloriously securing it with the pink ribbon I just got. “Awww! H-how cuuuute!”

“Huh?” he peeks into the mirror. And, oooh gods, he loses his voice right away, staring wide-eyed at the mirror while I giggle back and forth.

“Nooo. See, your hair is so beautiful, you know~? Why, do you think I’m saying this just to make you feel bad? If I want to make you feel bad I’d have called you _creative_ names, Ares, meow. Awh, I didn’t realize I’m acquainted with a very pretty lion~! Let me look at you again~…”

“You did call me creative names so far, though,” he remarks sullenly. “However, if you think that made me feel bad—tough luck. I enjoyed them so far.”

“… You actually liked my nicknames?” I poke him. He gasps. Like, he just realized he is saying something which gloriously backfired at him! Suddenly the conversation I overheard at the toilet comes through my mind. Well, admittedly it is fun, calling him names like that. And he is still too unbelievable to be only pure human. However, it’s not like his name itself isn’t fun to mention. His name has always felt so smooth in my tongue since the first day, so…

“Don’t get too excited,” he remarks sullenly.

“Alright… Ares.”

I casually wink at him. He quickly turns around when his name is mentioned, but I bat my eyelashes because somehow his response actually makes me feel rather—shy? Why, is he a cat whose ears quickly flip open when hearing the name is being called? Alright, lions and cats—what is the difference again?

“… No need to be demure like that,” he responds, but his smile brews faintly when he said that. He made no effort to untangle the braid I fixed on him—or even taking off the ribbon as much as he semi-sulked and be surprised when I first fixed the hair on him.

I leave him for a while because something shiny and pretty caught my interest—wow, it is this rose gold hairpin in the shape of stars like wearing a constellation in your hair! Oooh, gosh, it’s just so pretty, alright! Taking it, I’m trying it in front of the mirror where Ares waits on me. … It really is fitting, darn it—it does feel so good on me too! Like it is just right. Nanna has her favorite feather hairpin she wears often and I’m mostly wearing my hair in a ponytail—b-but this one… hnnn. It _is_ so good! Like, I can imagine styling my hair into a bun and use this hairpin to decor it. Rose gold too! I know that my favorite things tend to be rose gold in color so far, but there is no rule that says you cannot like certain type of color too much, you know?! Take this lion demon beside me for example! The hairpin sparkles under the brilliant light and I already imagine how cute it is during the day and how elegantly sparkly it shall be if worn at night. Right, right, and the price is…

My heart jumps to my throat. Alright, it’s not so cheap. Predictable considering it is Miletos anyway. And I can actually buy it; after all I’ve set more cash for Coirpre’s entertainment money. But like… exactly because life feels good at the moment that I don’t really feel like spending. If you live your life constantly preparing for what-if scenarios, it is hard to let go of this sense of dread that convinces you that you deserve something nice just like everyone else. It is hard to be sure that you have the right to spend for yourself instead of something useful and functional. As if the moment you want to feel relieved and happy, you quickly suspect everything thinking the world will come crashing on you because… because you think you are not supposed to feel happy or this secure. That something must be and will be going wrong the moment you breathe relief. I hate to admit, but… more or less…

“Something wrong?”

I startle because Ares’ voice tears my contemplation. Trying so hard not to smile wryly I slowly shake my head, blankly taking my phone out of the purse instead. “Selfie? Repaying your cat café one~?”

He does not say anything and let me. Fiddling with the beautiful hairpin once more, I silently say goodbye to it, quickly putting up my typical cheerful expression as I free Ares’ hair from the braid. Humming to cheer myself up I tell Ares that I’ll be back shortly to check the deeper aisle which I haven’t so we can proceed sightseeing and this time visiting a shop _he_ fancies. Oh, these are plushies! Haha, they are cute too. Hnnn, I have no need for one at the moment. Besides, there’s already a decorative cute Hello Kitty pillow Fee gave me for my last birthday! … Hnnn? Hold on, what is that again~?

AAAAAHHHH—!!

The good part is that I can contain my squeals this time instead of screaming like a hungry t-rex! The BEST part, I found a great plushie! And it’s not for me, but rather… ahueueueueee~ who else. This is a _lion_ plushie, with sharp eyebrows and keen eyes. But still, it is a plushie, so despite the fierce expression, it is sooo cute and fluffy because there is this some kind of a single pink flower stuck on its mane and the cheeks are sooo squeeze-worthy! Hehehe~!! The ears are so cute too. Hnnn, Ares turns around like he is looking at his surroundings, perhaps. I’m walking on my tiptoes, bringing the plushie to the other cashier instead of the one near where the mirror is—which is closer to Ares than this one, and… yaaay, I bought it! I’ll just give it to Ares later, hehehe! This is sooo fitting, my God—murderous but cute. Cute, but murderous. After all, it’s just fitting for my lion—

… I mean—Ares!

Oh, his back is still facing me. What caught his fancy at this store again, because he looks rather serious!

“Ares?”

“Oh,” he startles. Like, truly, truly startles, nearly jumping on his toes. He is zipping up his backpack. Hnnn? Buying something? Perhaps for Nanna. Or his aunt? His mother? Haha, how nice!

“Done?”

“I am if you are.”

“Awh, how kind~! I am! Come on, let’s continue~?” I take him by the arm and walk outside. Some of the kids pass by us, waving, and I remind them that we have about an hour left before regrouping at the decided point prior. Coirpre texts me that he is done at the bookstore and is about to check a game store nearby, with additional note that I should be relaxed because he is not going to buy anything.

… If only there was no need for that. I hope I could give him something nice for his next birthday…

“Ah…” Ares mumbles out of reflex when we pass by… something. I peek at him. He is contemplating… something. Oh, a sports station?

“Wanna check it out?”

“I’m not really in need of buying anything,” he replies rather stiffly.

“But I know you want to. So let’s go in~! We like it fair, no~?” I take him again.

“Can I help you?” a guy in polo shirt and casual pants welcomes me.

“Oh, we are just looking,” I smile back. “If we need something, I’ll tell you! Thanks a lot~!”

“Sure. Make yourself comfortable with our large selections here,” he smiles and retreats.

Ares sails the aisles confidently, like he truly knows what he is about to look. I tail behind. Perhaps he is just used to stores like this. We get further, further… until we are deep at the back aisle where the store keeps the heavier, bigger tools. I follow where Ares walks. He is contemplating a book—right, there is a book with a bonus CD attached there. Pretty rare, considering sports station usually sell equipment rather than books. He darts his glance around, and when I follow, I realize what aisle this is.

… Martial arts. Right. They have the gears like wrist and foot guard, sandbag—I don’t know, this rubber-like sandbag only much smaller, and… eh, square pads? I steal a look at the book Ares is holding, and I immediately understand why he behaves like he just strolls in blankly once we are inside. It’s a book compiling the history, teachings, and notes from Shotokan masters from generation to generation, even tracing back around the time of its founding, with a bonus CD of old, black and white footage of Shotokan as well as other renowned karate style clips they managed to obtain. I read the featured masters there; Gichin Funakoshi, Mas Oyama—names I never really know about, but seems very important in the development of karate, and perhaps important too in a way for Ares. Perhaps this is the same feeling when a kungfu aficionado or practitioner experiences when they are reading Bruce Lee?

“… Let’s buy it,” I say softly to him, gently patting his hand.

“I’m alright not having it.”

“But you want it,” my voice only gets to be gentler. Playfully, I snatch the book and its banded bonus CD from his grip. “I’ll bring this to the counter? Ah, right~! Now that we are here, why don’t you tell me about these things? This one is too small to be a sandbag, don’t you think? Also, these square pads, how do you use it? Why do some people bandage their feet when they compete? Also like, why are those action movie folks often fight with bandaged hands too?”

He pauses. D-did I chirp too much? Did I make him feel bad instead?

He touches the small sandbag I pointed. It has to be a tester, judging how it is fastened to a pole and everything. Exhaling, he darts a light punch against it. This little thing sways back and forth, and he swiftly follows, making repeated motions of darting rapid punches as his breathing catches up. With a simple cooling down, he looks at his hands, like he did not believe he just did that. “… I…”

I tap the hand, making him to look at me. “It’s alright,” I whisper to him. “… You missed that, didn’t you?”

“… I can’t lie to you, it seems,” he gives me a sad smile. “Yet at the same time, I’m glad.”

“Then I’m glad too,” I tick his nose. “Because this means you are healing.”

“… Healing?” he looks at me.

“Yes~? I bet that you would just walk away prior to this,” huffing, I punch that small sandbag. “Now you _feel_. I’ll call that improvement, not about you getting weak or soft or whatever. Besides, what’s wrong with being soft? It means you have a strong, strong heart.”

“… Hmmm.”

“You are smiling,” I point at him, making a playful punching motion. “Why, did I say something dumb?”

“On the contrary,” his voice is so tender when replying. “You do have such unique perspective, Lene.”

“Is that… bad?” I clasp my hands in front of me. Normally I’m pretty confident in myself, but some days sometimes you just need to know whether you cross a line, you know?

He shakes his head. “I am grateful for this one of a kind rabbit.”

“… Ares?”

“… There were nights when I wondered if… I mean—why…”

“Eeeh? What did you think?”

“Haha, spoilsport, aren’t I?” he chuckles. “Don’t mind me. Ah, right. This is usually to test speed and stamina. Some people do cardio with this little bastard,” he pats the small sandbag. “That’s why I’m hitting it rapidly. Some people bandage their hands because that way your fingers are held in place, giving more stable, powerful punches. Kendoka and judoka do heavy training on the floor so they often get blisters. I bandage at times because I do kicks a lot.”

“Oooh. Thank you for explaining~!”

“Ah, but why wouldn’t I?” he chuckles again.

“Well, some men—“

“—Are douchebags,” he finishes off my sentence with a smirk. “And these square pads are targets to be held by your sparring partner or instructor, like…” he slips his hand into one of them. “Because some moves need a partner. Here you can just hit it.”

This feels nice. He looks happy and contended. Why, can’t this stay forever? Can’t he be forever happy and contended, doing things he likes like this? I have fun trying out these things with him. He even lowers the target so I can hit it, both being mindful of me and the fact that I’m wearing a dress. Such summer. Why is Grease’s iconic song haunting me now?

“Then I guess you can take this to the cashier,” I return the book I snatched from him prior, smiling. “Take it, Ares~! Yesss. Honor the masters!”

“… Noted,” he gives me a small smile, yet it is just… so warm like that. Ah…

“You know, I do totally think that you should take the ring again,” I say to him. Perhaps it will be better if I just convey it like this, in my typical cheery manner. The subject alone is already putting pressure on him, and I don’t want to contribute to it—I just want to make him… think. That alone is enough. He knows himself best, and this isn’t even my area to tread… “I mean—it’s in your blood. It’s in your eyes. I think—I think passion is like that, Ares—it never truly leaves even when you escape.”

“Escape?”

“Um. R-right? You didn’t even do anything wrong! Even if you did, the best way to forgive yourself is returning to where you left to work hard and do it right this time, don’t you think~?” I twirl his mullet. “And leaving it altogether may not help you in the long run. Besides…”

“Yes?”

“Blackbelt or not, you will always have… my… support…” I can’t do this. My face feels burning. My voice dies immediately somehow, too. I don’t know—I’m not faking being demure; this just… happens…

He pauses, quietly taking the karate book to the cashier and pay. We still do not say anything, and my heart throbs hard, thrown between the idea of questioning whether I’ve been too frank or that he just does not want to talk about it anymore. We check the time, and make several quick phone calls to remind the kids that it’s time to assemble back downstairs as decided. Kids descend from escalators and elevators one by one as we wait patiently. They look equally happy and contended, some still carrying snacks they are buying from the food court. We count and recount several times because no way we will leave a child behind. And I want everyone to be here instead of doing the headcount later while we are already on the bus! Thankfully, no, we did not miss anyone, and I thank everyone for being such a disciplined squad. “Look at you, a formidable standing army!” chuckling, I pat the kids.

“As if Coach N there won’t bite if we are messy,” Coirpre grins.

“Your darling Coach N doesn’t bite~! Right~?” I run my fist over Ares’ cheek as like.

“Be careful of what you wished for, rabbit.”

W-wew, he smirks like a lion again!

Regardless, now that the kids are here, I take them to get KFC takeaways so we don’t waste anymore time being here only to be trapped by traffic again. The kids need sleep even if I’m sleeping midnight! Oh, right, Ares’ orders are with me too… perhaps it’s a suitable time for… you know, the plushie…

He smiles faintly when he sees me approaching the bus. I offered to take his order because he is there supervising the kids returning back to the bus and checking if everyone is already on board—exactly so I can buy my food too. “Everyone on board?” he tilts his head inside, receiving a collective affirmative answer. Some kids start eating because we are still waiting for the bus driver that is around two blocks around. He returns his attention to me then… “Go first so you can eat.”

I shake my head. “Um. Here is your food…”

“Ah. Thank you,” he simply takes the bag I give him.

“… And… another…”

He stops diving his fingers into the bag. “Another?”

I search my bag, holding up a plastic bag which is then closed with a ribbon. Darn it, even the packaging is cute! I’ll check if this store has branches! Aaah~! But that aside, somehow I feel so… shy? Why again? I _know_ firsthand that I wanted to get this plushie for Ares, so why do I get mushy-shy like a cute shoujo manga protagonist?! Hnnnh! S-still! The show must go on, s- so… “Y-yes. Another.”

“Why are you bowing like that?”

“S-so you don’t have to see my face?”

“Visible though, I’m taller.”

I yank his mullet.

“That’s a fact and not to spite you, Lene.”

I yank his mullet harder.

“… You are shy enough to face me yet have no problem assaulting my hair?” he smirks, finally taking the cute package from me. H-here goes. He peeks inside, taking the lion plushie out. U-ummm. What do I do now? Running? Y-yes. Running sounds good! Sigh. And I said I’m a big girl?

“T-there. Ummm. T-that is not to spite you either! Ciao~!” I really, really take my ass flying into the bus! Oooh gods. I quickly settle in my seat, bowing so low as I begrudgingly munch on my chickens. T-today feels so good. And I’m a bit tired too. If I can finish these chickens in a flash, then I can sleep too, like a couple of kids who are already snoring. Six-thirty now. The traffic begins to ease a bit. The bus driver is back, apologizing because the sandwich counter he is queuing had long lines.

“Tired?”

“Eh—a bit,” I nod sheepishly. Now that he is here, I don’t need to check—I know Ares is back, if not for the soft thudding sound on the board.

“Why don’t you take a nap a little bit?” the bus driver says. “I’ll wake you up. It must be tiring.”

“Thank you. Maybe I would,” I chuckle awkwardly. If I sleep, I can _pretend_ I didn’t just give Ares a plushie. Hnnn, he is right. I’m pretty tired. Yawning softly, I cup my mouth, giggling a little bit because Coirpre’s head leans on my shoulder. Perhaps the trip is more tiring than the match itself. Or now that it’s over, the tension is over too that even their bodies know and demand a compensation.

Everything around me sounds more and more distant as I drift to sleep. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping until I feel the bus is making a sharp turn—and there are some voices… like a murmur… my eyes are half-open when I catch a glimpse of Ares talking with the bus driver discussing the most convenient and fastest route to get back to Thracia.

“… Yeah, that detour is fine. I think you can take it from the tenth avenue to… oh, I see. Yeah, I usually drive my own motorbike so I don’t really use the routes you mentioned…”

I close my eyes again. Ah, the ever-helpful Ares .…

“Miss?”

“… Hnnn?”

“It’s Thracia,” the bus driver gently pats my shoulder. “We’ve arrived. You slept so well.”

I glance around. Some kids are yawning, some are already dragging their backpacks to get down. I don’t find Ares at the back seat, so perhaps as always he exits first so he can check on all the kids as they leave the bus—the way he climbed last to ensure all the kids had been seated. Why is he so…

Yawning one more time I kick the leftover sleepiness somewhere-who cares. Only then I notice that there is… something… something on me. Huh? What is this? A black vest? But this is like, so big. Two-three sizes bigger than my clothes, perhaps. And I don’t have a black vest! And there is a… huh? Similar bag with the similar ribbon like the one for the lion plushie! This black vest… Ares then? Did Ares put this on me? And this bag…

I peek inside. There’s a small cute box too, and… oh—Gods. My heart stops beating for a moment. It’s the beautiful hairpin I saw prior—t-the rose gold hairpin, the constellation-like hairpin, the hairpin I really really liked, the hairpin I put down… s-so he bought it the moment I left the aisle back then? I-is that why he turned his back on me? H-hnnn. Ares—Ares—… Ares…

“Ares!!”

W-why do I scream like I’m looking for someone under debris…

“Here, rabbit.”

I quickly turn around. He is there. With that comforting tone as always—with a straight face which masters the room. That tone—like the tone he had when I frantically searched for him during the campus creeper incident at Tirnanog; when Seliph took care of that creep. He would always be there….

“Uh—s-sorry! Did I startle you? Is this your vest? And this box—this box!! Oh, gods—“

“Yeah, this one’s mine,” he takes the black vest from me, smirking a bit as his eyes fall on the box. “That one, however, isn’t. Yours. The lion doll is mine now, though—thank you.”

“Ooooh dear gods!!” who knows how I even _dare_ , anyway—I _jump_ on him, hugging him at ease. Hnnn. I have this sudden, sudden urge to bury my face in his chest. Telling him… many things. Like—like thanks a lot for this beautiful hairpin… thanks for taking care of me… thanks for the vest… and how I like—

He looks incredibly surprised. “… Do you like it?” his voice comes out huskily.

“Are you kidding? I _love_ it so much!!” I beam at him. Yes, I love it! I LOVE IT! In fact, I love A—

The bus driver leaves his vehicle, joining the rest. Coirpre’s sleepy, puffy face nearly startles me, but seems he is too sleepy to realize that I just tackle-hugged Ares. My phone buzzes. Oh, the sports teacher? “Hello? Yes, we just arrived! Pardon—can you repeat? … Oh. I understand…”

“Is something wrong?” Ares quickly catches on me frowning.

“Oh, Ares!” I squeeze his arm again. “T-the Yied. They got disqualified—apparently the superintendent there caught that Bramsel had a thing or two with unlawful property business and tried to bribe people or something—I honestly stopped listening at this point because… because all I thought about was… we won’t have to play them. The championship committee will roll turn to adapt with this, and for a moment I was just so glad because this means you do not have to be back there again! I know how hurtful that region made you, s-so…” my voice croaks. Gods, I get so emotional today, huh? But… but…

“… You were assaulted,” he whispered in a really, really careful manner.

“Y-yes. But those people… Javarro… a-and you…” how could I forget the way that man talked to him? And all the hurtful things he hurled simply because Ares chose to live a normal life and tried to grasp for his future back instead of resigning to be just… an attack dog?

He exhales. I thought he is… what, disturbed? Will he think I’m overreacting?

“Oh—r-right. Sorry for jumping on you like that, and to answer your question, n-no. Everything is good! I was just—just so, so happy because I was kind of worried about you! And the hairpin is so perfect, and…”

“… And I need to make something clear,” he cuts in.

“Ah! Y-yes?” Darn it, Lene. Screaming again?

“Don’t apologize for this,” he murmurs right into my ear. “Not now, not later—never.”

“… Eh…?”

“And I’ll think about the ring—seriously this time. That, I promise you.”

… Just then I realize he is gently hugging me back…

* * *

 

I know I should stop smiling like a camel, but actually… yes, I am smiling like a camel. I’ve been grinning the entire morning, trying out this hairpin—and yes, it is just as breathtaking as it was under those bright store lights! Hnnn. And it stays on my vanity, not going into the box like my other trinkets which I usually wear when I dance. I want to look at it again and again, especially since it’s from Ares—

… I still don’t know why I feel so shy about it. But at the same time I like it a lot?

This has been a blissful week, really—not just about our school’s victories against strong teams or not having to play at the Yied Avenue again. Because if anything as the match progresses we will only meet stronger and stronger opponent, yet somehow that does not bother me at all. Like, I don’t care—I feel safe and secure; I feel warm. Does that hairpin exude magical power? Does Ares’ hand, then?

… Perhaps I should hold him more to see if that is the case…?

Hnnn? What was I thinking just now?

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _LENE WAKE UP OMG_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
I am here! Haha, what’s up~? ^^_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
WHY ARE YOU SO CALM LOOK AT ARES’ NEWEST UPDATE??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hnnn? I haven’t checked on Instagram today! Hnnn I need to post more videos, lately I’ve been busy! ;w;_

I tap Ares’ profile. Hnnn? Oh, he changed his profile picture! It is no longer Mystletainn! Rather, a logo or poster of a tiger with black background. Oh, that is pretty cool. I wonder, what prompted it? Is this what got Fee so concerned? It’s just a fierce-looking tiger under a black background! Newest post…

 **_anblacknight_ ** _So this is a braid._

Alright, Fee is right! Aaaaahhhh—he posted the photo of him at the gift store!! There is indeed a photo of him staring at the mirror like a curious cat! He posted it just like that? He doesn’t mind?

 **_lightprincess_ ** _OH MY GOD!! **@anblacknight**_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _H-how do I say this… m-majestic! AAAAAAA **@anblacknight**_

 **_larceiheyhey @anblacknight_ ** _MODEL FOR MY DESIGN CLASS_

 **_anblacknight @larceiheyhey_ ** _NO_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _W-who did this. S-such courage… is that person still alive?_

 **_anblacknight @larceiheyhey_ ** _Of course she is._

 **_gaebolg @anblacknight_ ** _… She?_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _SHE YOU SAID._

 **_darkscion @anblacknight_ ** _You have no idea what a braid is? Mwahaha!! Poor peasant!_

 **_anblacknight @darkscion_ ** _Right. How about I WATERBOARD you? You’ve never, haven’t you?_

 **_lightprincess @anblacknight_ ** _ARES **@darkscion**_

Oh, this. Okay—first of all, yes, Ares, that is a braid. Sigh.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _I saw! ^^ So what’s the problem here? Clearly he’s never been braided that’s all hehe._

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _HOW COME YOU ARE SO CALM THAT ARES ROARS AND KILLS BEFORE ANYONE COULD TOUCH HIM_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
?? Nothing happened! He is like a curious cat ^^ I know this because I am the one braiding him! :O_

 **_pheeew  
_ ** _YOU DID THE BRAID YOU SAID_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Yes~!_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
… OMG WHAT WERE YOU THINKING???_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
That he would look cute with that braid? :OO_

 **_pheeew_ ** _  
OMFGdjlsjalfashfk_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Fee? Are you alright? Did you swallow a cereal bowl?_

Days fly unnoticeable.

Other news from the matches start coming as well—yes, the Yied is disqualified. And apparently that makes us the automatic winner; even if not, score-wise we already have two victories under our sleeves and the last play with Miletos gave us four goals in total, compiled with the first game against Manster. The elite Grannvale won against Verdane, and having lost two times in a row, Verdane is also unable to proceed competing more. Proud strong team of Isaach destroyed Manster with a decisive victory goal after an additional time and Agustria proceeded to get to the semi-final after conquering Silesse with penalty duel—like the kind teams do when they are playing on higher level such as quarter-final and neither team scores a decisive goal to tip the scales; so instead both choose five executioners to have a duel against the goalie—five tries of penalty kicks, and the moment the opponent fails even one kick, the other side is declared the winner. Agustria apparently took down Silesse four against three. That really was close. That really was.

It is then decided that Agustria will face Grannvale for the semi-final while Isaach will play against us. This is so scary—Agustria, Grannvale, and Isaach are strong, strong elite teams and a couple of their kids are already seen as promising junior players worthy to be shaped into an Olympic athlete. But on the other hand… WE MAKE IT TO THE SEMI-FINAL!! Whatever happens, we will still be in the top four, and we still have the chance to make it to the final!! Oooh dear Lord, I’m trembling with excitement and tension at the same time!!

We are busy, really busy. The semi-final is going to be held at the smaller section of a local stadium where the big games are played—it is in Belhalla, in the region of Grannvale. They do have their ways with anything that is worth-watching—musical concerts with international superstars? You bet those singers will most likely perform at Belhalla’s grand stadium more than everywhere else if they are to play here in Jugdral. Well, traveling to Belhalla should not be that much compared to the dense traffic like in Miletos. Semi-final… semi-final, gods, I feel like tearing up in my class when the news reached me!

But that really makes us busier than ever—especially Ares. His senior courses start catching up, and a couple of times I saw him being on Instagram engaging Linoan, Safy, and Altena past midnight. Their study group seems to receive the stress toll too, because it’s not usual to see Linoan starts making tired, sarcastic sharp remarks when discussing a subject and Safy types like she is so ready to scream and pull her hair out at any given moment while Altena decides to go fuck-it, emailing Arion at one-thirty because her vector lines still do not run on the programs they are using. Ares misplaces posting a sketch of soccer battle formation instead of the sketch he promises to tag Safy in; and Altena has an open debate with Leif because so desperate that she is, she asks his help for a calculation.

Sometimes people’s updates fly on my newsfeed as well—like I’ve seen Nanna and Leif exchanging somewhat cold lines on the open because Leif forgot to pick her up for the fourth time consecutively during the week out of being too busy—one of them because of helping Altena. I’ve seen Diarmuid having to poke Ares on Instagram because he takes longer hours at school that some of his mother’s deliveries stalled or having to be delivered by him. I’ve seen @ _lionmeals_ account having to comment on Ares’ newest update expressing concern because their pride of a son holes up at school—again—after everyone else has left, staying until ten at night with three cans of beer at the drawing room. I’ve seen Ares’ father having to comment via @ _lionmeals_ informing that—no, there is no ifs or buts, he is coming to pick Ares up while Diarmuid can ride Mystletainn because even as the father he is not going to trust a frustrated, _angry_ Ares with three beer cans riding alone nearing midnight.

Everyone is so tense because of many reasons. And lately I feel so tired after studying and doing dancing gig at various places that all I need and can do is just getting home, having a warm bath soaking my tired feet in the bathtub and sleep. One time Coirpre tries to wake me up by slamming a chair against the bathroom door because I have fallen asleep while in the bathtub—dangerous.

We are past our limit. And as Ares’ new profile picture stays, I catch more glimpse of his daily life that way—he has been… training. More than usual. I remember he told me he is going to think about the ring seriously this time—is this the clue, or is he just frustrated by his own piling homework that he needs to vaporize all that anger and frustration? But he posts it on Instagram, tagging Diarmuid, Leif, and Altena. Ares is not going to do that if he is just in the mood of fighting because his mood sours.

 **_anblacknight_ ** _I haven’t done these reps for a while, critics/comments are appreciated._

That’s one. And these reps only get to be fiercer and fiercer.

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Sparring? **@heyimnotaplant @gaebolg @larceiheyhey**_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _I can be in your house in like an hour later **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Sorry, D. I want to get serious this time, blackbelts only. **@dialdfordiarmuid**_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Ouch. That’s pretty frank, brother **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _There are a few katas I want to test in a free fight and you are still a brown belt. It will be unfair still even if you also do Shotokan like me **@dialdfordiarmuid.** You are my pride too, worry not._

 **_heyimnotaplant @anblacknight_ ** _Dude you know me & **@gaebolg** are of different styles right_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Exactly why. Come kick my ass, literally **@heyimnotaplant**_

The other instances give me a glimpse of… his father! Right, his father!! He is this serious-looking man like him with similar mullet golden hair like his—only that he is _so tall,_ even a bit taller than Ares. Wew. See, the Nordions are not even human—Nordion Senior has that gentle, kind look on him but his eyes are sharp and observing, and for a moment I really would have thought this family is a lion colony manifested because he seems to have that fire like his sister Lachesis has—only that his is potent and contained, does not make him any less bright or _fierce._ In the newest update I could see him holding a big wooden block at ease, supervising Ares with such sharp look while Ares crouches and holds his legs down for I don’t know since when. Meanwhile a gentle-looking lady in pink dress hurriedly puts her food on the table, slapping Ares’ father back in an endearing manner before chiding how he should take it easy on the son. Is this the mother? Holy sheep, no wonder good genes run well in that alleged-lion family—she is the classical beauty type—calm brown eyes, swirling brown hair with side curls.

And with all the ongoing tensions, training for the matches, our own homework and school papers, we barely have time to talk to each other again. Ares takes the kids to drill at a… yes, public swimming pool. And not just to swim—he wants the kids to _run_ in the water twenty times while keeping their paces and breaths steady. He wants them to kick ball under the water. What previously starts with simply bouncing the ball off the water turns into something fiercer and more complicated—the inner-heel kick, the jump kick, overhead throw—it’s like he is semi-playing water polo and specifically rents one pool just for the purpose of training the boys that way. Sometime later, he tells me that he takes the boys to the park for a run, feeling proud that their speed and durability improve because of that hellish pool training.

“… I guess I owe karate more than what I realized I did,” he states sheepishly at me. “Those trainings—“

“Based on _your_ training,” I pinch his nose.

“Yeah,” he scratches his head. “Don’t begrudge Coirpre if he comes home with some muscles next time.”

If he expects me to act disgruntled as usual, not this time. “Sounds like Sensei is good with kids.”

“… Don’t call me that,” he remarks sullenly because his mischievous plan backfires.

“Mm-hmm. Osu,” if Ares thinks he has power over me, he needs to learn something, hehehe.

With this, I learn something too—I have mindlessly mentioned the new profile picture to him, and in a low voice like he is so hesitant and shy he tells me that it is the banner of Shotokan karate—a tiger over red base and black circular background. Perhaps he is indeed picking up what he has left. Perhaps he is taking back his roots. But that means… that means he is serious. And somehow I’m feeling so happy—so overwhelmingly happy. Like, other people have tried and failed to make him reconsider. Altena—his close friend and sparring partner, failed. Seliph, the person he wants to defeat more than everyone else—failed. Perhaps Leif too. And Diarmuid, his family, the closest person he can think of as a brother failed too. His aunt is still worried about him. But he… he listens to me. And he eventually treads the road back.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he peeks curiously at me—again, like a cat.

“I have matcha chocolate bar,” mindlessly I shove it into his hands with a smile, which he receives, confused. He mumbles gratitude at me, but I simply bounce back to my class, smiling even wider.

The training session gets even more intense as Ares starts splitting the kids to base their training by improving their specific trait based on their specialty at the field. He improves the strikers’ strength. He drills Ced in speed. He gets the goalkeeper to sharpen his reflex by… yes, telling that kid to try taking the ball from him and then teaches him how to block punches to awaken his senses. Coirpre is right—this team is a standing army! His methods are rather unconventional for soccer, but he is doing the best with the best ways he knows and tests himself; and it’s not like these bear no fruit. Coirpre appears more confident, steadier—and I notice he isn’t getting knocked down when accidentally trips on me!

And I am not sitting idly by laboring myself in the dances or homework either. I train my girls. I turn their class into a Pilates-esque class so they have more strength with their arms and feet because lately Ares takes the boys to train outside the school. And no, I’m not imposing diet on them—heck, they are still kids. And I won’t. The only thing I make them aware of is again, not staying up late or eating deep-fried foods and taking iced drinks to keep their vocal at the prime.

The day is finally here. Semi-final season starts rolling and no kids say anything as we ride the bus to Belhalla. “Isaach is fast. Think of a Ced and perhaps faster times eleven,” Ares speaks in the bus as we get closer to the stadium in Belhalla. “So that’s why I improve your strength and endurance. We can normally expect that they may possess the ball more than us in the entire game. I’d rather say that we should do everything we can in the first round—second round, tire them out. Take them down in their own game without retorting to questionable methods.”

“Like what?”

“That despicable triangle dribbling trap!”

The strikers who previously used it on Coirpre can only look down.

“And their techniques are mindblowing. That is why I have been training you rather unconventionally,” Ares speaks again, eying the kids one by one. “So give your all. If you can, corner them—no matter how fast someone is, they cannot run if you deprive them of their space—they will have to fight back, and being able to kick stronger gives you advantage. Even if you can only manage to land several strikes, you can make it worthwhile—their prided Astra strike needs a good teamwork, so that is what we are going to do, kids—cut them down from there. Do not let their teammates help each other—instead, _you_ help each other. If you feel like you can’t hold the ball longer or that someone is about to be attacked, help him. And remember—cut the Isaachians off from their support system. They are fast, I need you to be quick.”

Nobody says anything. They heed him word per word!

“Trust in yourself. Do not let them curb your spirit,” Ares speaks gentler this time. “Read the field. Read your opponent. See where he hopes for a backup from—block that path. Isolate him. _Destroy them._ ”

“Right~! Do not despair or falter. We are here exactly to prevent you!” Tinny speaks. Everyone nods, looking a bit relieved and very much resolved hearing it. The bus pulls into the stadium’s parking lot, spacious and nice deserving the grand name and everything.

“Remember, we have come so far,” I try to tame their nervousness. “It’s semi-final. Give your all and fight well—everyone is proud of you for making it this far.”

The kids change. Isaachian team welcomes us much, much cordially than Manster or Miletos did—their crew extended their hands at us, and we exchanged brief introduction while our kids shake hands with theirs too before pouring into the field. Right, this is what sportsmanship has to be! “I hope the game will be satisfying for both sides,” their coach remarks wisely.

“It’s an honor to fight you,” Ares waves the other guy into a sportive handshake before returning to the bench with me. And with it, we wait again. The whistle is blown and the kick-off starts.

As expected, Isaachian kids are fierce and fast the moment the clock ticks. They are capable runners, swift and nimble that it’s almost like we are defending a headquarter against professional thieves! Our defenders quickly secure the rear line as Isaachian players pour into our part of the field like snowstorm. It is hard, trying to find a room to conduct the battle plan because they keep attacking. It is so easy to be out of breath as well—they truly are fast, and…

Whistle is blown once. Ced curls on the field, grimacing, clutching on his knee. An Isaachian kid bumped into him trying to steal a ball he just got, causing the green-haired middle-fielder to slam hard against the ground. People are gasping. The Isaachian player who threw him off the ground quickly apologizes, taking him to stand while Ares ran into the field, picking up Ced as medical crew prepares their stuff.

“I’m sorry!” the Isaachian kid races Ares to the bench. “Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

“… Throbbing,” Ced winces. “Thank you.”

The match comes into a halt while the medical team presses ice over Ced’s damaged knee. “Bend your leg,” Ares says while they treat Ced. He looks at the kid again as he does what is asked. “… Ced, I think it is sprained.”

“No way,” Ced mutters in a truly, truly horrified manner. “Not now. I have to run. Not now.”

“I know. I know,” Ares grips his shoulder. “But you must rest. We’ll give it some time to recover while they are treating you. We’ll bandage this nicely.”

“But the team—I have to return!” Ced grunts when his knee throbs again.

“Ced?” I call him gently. “Come on. You are like stubborn Coirpre 2.0. Lie down here for a while.”

“But…” he fidgets with his shirt. “Oh—Lord,” he sounds so devastated, like holding back tears when they give him bottled mineral water and painkiller. “But we are so close. Please. Please let me play.”

“This match is not over yet,” Ares’ firm tone successfully stops him from whining. “And this is a team, not a one-man army. At least wait until that pill works, Ced.”

“… Am I thinking of myself… too highly?” he mutters. “Is this why? I’m so careless…”

“No,” Ares pats his head. “This is not a one-man army—you have teammates. Kids! Keep fighting. Just because you lost an ace does not mean everything is sealed yet. Let Ced rest.” He then contacts the board, taking a few kids out of the field as their substitutes walk into the arena. Ced can finally smile a bit when the subbed kids smile comfortingly at him, thanking him for all his hard work for the half of the first round. “There is no change in tactic. Coirpre?”

“M-me?”

“Yes. Take the field. Once they approach the rear line or nearing penalty box, isolate their strikers.”

“Okay!” Coirpre quickly gets up, doing quick warm-ups as he approaches Ced who lies flatly on a bench. “I’ve got your back! I won’t let your effort wasted!”

“I trust you,” Ced bumps fist with Coirpre, grunting again when they bandage him. The game keeps going—there is no time for despair because Isaach does not loosen their grip over us. Here they come again. They have made it deeper into our line, and are now trying to maim the penalty box!

Out of the blue one of the strikers sharply turns around, running rapidly to get to the rear. He steals the ball from an Isaachian offending, dangerous middle-fielder and… unexpectedly, he dribbles it inside instead of trying to throw it outside as typical saving attempt does. Ares watches closely. Suddenly he smiles. “That’s daring. Have you heard of the no-goalie-dribble rule?”

I shake my head. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. So basically your player is not allowed to kick the ball at their own goalkeeper with the intent for the goalkeeper to keep it with him, like catching a kick. It’s going to be a foul.”

“Hold on, Ares! If he kicks it back at the goalkeeper, doesn’t that mean it’s a suicide goal?!”

“… Or those kids have a plan.”

I’m so nervous. Isaachian kids are so good like they really aren’t just going to give us a chance despite all the courtesy and cordiality they are treating us with! I hope they do have a plan. Anything is better than being trapped in stagnancy like this, otherwise we are the one that is worn out! The goalkeeper receives the ball the striker just kicks back. A ferocious Isaachian middle-fielder tries to cut it off before the goalkeeper has the chance to kick back to throw the ball into the other side of the field. But…

“I’m not letting it!”

That’s Coirpre. He stands against the middle-fielder, fencing the penalty box so that the goalkeeper has the chance to kick the ball, further and further until it crosses half of the field. Meanwhile Coirpre moves swiftly, blocking Isaachian middle-fielders who desperately need to go back to their position considering most of their players are pouring onto our side to launch a total offense like that!

“Right, Coach N’s tactic!” someone shouts, snapping people out of confusion. Rear guards start moving as planned, isolating Isaachian players who want to retreat back now that the ball reaches their side of the field. Their middle-fielders are frantically trying to return but cannot just do so as easily because our players begin to block them, while our strikers and middle-fielders prevent their rear guards to leave the penalty box so they cannot pull an offside trap on us.

It’s empty. Their side of the field is basically empty. Their goalkeeper braces himself for an incoming attack, but our strikers spare the last glance at a recuperating Ced at the field before passing the ball to his teammate, surprising the Isaachian goalkeeper who had anticipated an attack from him.

“Ah, the classic 1-2-1,” Ares grins, looking so pleased when the previous striker who passed the ball runs at the goalkeeper’s left side, cornering him at a dead angle. Third striker quickly catches up, shadowing the striker with the ball when the latter kicks forward…

Isaachian players begin trying to penetrate the blocking. A few of them race back as fast as they can while our own strikers run in zigzag pattern like a cutting scissor while Isaachian goalkeeper, impatiently, leaves the keep trying to neutralize the attack even before the ball is kicked. They are known for their speed. They could…

… No. They could not. Spectators scream, yell, shout, and even shriek when our striker quickly passes the ball at the other striker who previously held the goalkeeper at a dead angle. And the latter calmly kicks it through, making the ball rotate while the goalkeeper springs like a pouncing tiger trying to salvage his keep, but…

“GOAL!!” an announcer shouts through her microphone. Whistle is blown, flags are raised; kids from both sides drop themselves onto the ground while ours envelope each other in a hug. That one is beautiful, so, so beautiful—only seconds later referee blows the whistle again, marking the end of the first round.

Players leave the field to change sides and I send my girls down now. They shake hands and exchange smiles with Isaachian cheer girls as I get them to line up. From the corner of my eyes I can see Ares carrying Ced bridal-style to the other side of the field, following players who change sides. Waters are being distributed. Towels are taken out of the bags. Ced smiles brilliantly as the other kids crowd around him and Ares, like they are silently saying they are not going anywhere without him because we are a team. Ced mumbles another apology when Ares seats himself on the bench. With burning resolve, he eyes Ares, muttering… “Test my knee, Coach.”

“Ced…”

“Please,” he clutches tightly on Ares. “Test me.”

Ares sighs. “If you can’t go on, signal the referee. Hear me?”

“I promise,” he nods. “So give me one more chance.”

“Alright. Receive this with your thigh,” Ares kicks a ball at him.

“The painkiller is working,” Ced does as he is told.

“Very well. Kick me.”

“Kick… you?”

“Yes. Like a roundhouse kick. Kick my shoulder—then one more time, aim for a higher body part,” Ares points at his temple. “Jump. Try catching me here.”

“Eugh. But what if I hurt you?” Ced murmurs.

“You won’t,” Ares purposefully musters a commanding, confident tone. “Do so.”

Ced does it. And another. And he lands on the grass again. “So…”

“You are forcing,” Ares shakes his head again. “But it’s tolerable. Second round, you are in. But listen—you are not going to shoot at the keep. Pass the ball to someone else who will shoot for you.”

“Understood.”

“No sprinting unless it’s really, really necessary.”

“… How many can I do on this match?”

“Two.”

“… Two times per a hundred meters!” Ced gasps. “That’s so limited! Alright. Watch me.”

“Sure I will,” Ares smiles faintly this time. “Find your target.”

He nods. And he has his bandage replaced, testing how his leg feel when he moves it. Meanwhile my girls are on fire. We are using _Girls on Top_ this time, earning sincere cheers from mostly female audiences. Wew, there is a camera too from a local TV! I catch a glimpse of Arthur’s silvery purple hair swirling around as he races the cameraman. “Do you think I only have one job?” he grins, waving at us. “Hey, Ares! Mind if I interview you later? For the bulletin!”

“About what?” Ares shifts defensively.

“Coaching these kids!”

“… Oh. If that, then alright,” he nods. “I’m @ _anblacknight_ on Instagram and we can exchange numbers.”

“That’s convenient! Thanks, man,” Arthur gives him a thumbs-up before rolling with his crew again. “You too, Lene! Hashtag equality!”

“Go away,” chuckling, I wave back. The installed camera projects my girls in action for the spectators who sit far from the field. This is so glorious… s-sobs, they look so cool, strong, and fun at the same time! Their voice is heard clearly across the field, and some spectators are even giving them standing ovation when my girls are done!

They return to the benches, sweating but happy. They really can’t wait to tell me everything they just experienced—from how they managed to befriend some Isaachian girls and even exchange contacts with them. How this match is not easy but fulfilling because Isaachians play well while uphold chivalrous sportsmanship. “They praised us!” Miranda looks so overwhelmingly happy even if she is tired. “They are curious of our songs selection, so what can I say—we have a cool coach!”

Awh, I’m so touched! I hug them one by one. Who cares if they are sweaty again? We check up on Ced one more time to make sure he truly is ready. Tinny gasps when seeing his bandaged knee, but Ced smiles kindly at her. “I’m alright,” he says. “I’m alright. I’ll always be.”

The whistle is blown again. Coirpre proceeds to return to the bench, when…

“Coirpre?”

“Coach N?” he blinks.

“Why, aren’t you playing?”

Coirpre _blinks._ Again. “I’m still—playing?”

“Yeah?” Ares grins. “Go get them, junior rabbit.”

“I play a round in full! Wooow!” he chirps enthusiastically. “Yes! I’ll protect you, Ced!”

Ced scratches his head while Coirpre practically beams at everything and everyone. Nobody of our team runs into the field—they calmly walk to match Ced’s staggered paces. Awh, I feel it. The comradeship is strong with this one. Finally! If we are this solid and cohesive, there is nothing, nothing that we cannot try! Even if we lost, I know we will give a good fight. And we won’t be having any regret.

We sit again, watching how the match rolls this team. The Isaachian kids—as Ares predicted—are slowing down this time, having pressed so hard and fast from the first second when the match started. Like an anti-thesis, the second round actually proceeds smoother compared to the first one. Right, the Isaachians are tired. They expected their collective offense to yield a result, and when it did not, they have exhausted themselves that many of them are replaced by substitute players, who apparently are not as tough as their main. Perhaps that’s how they roll these days—the main team has always managed to sweep over their enemies, leaving little for their substitutes. Now that the main team are tired, Ares chooses that we mirror what they did before—doing all-court offense, getting inside their territory the way they pressed against us. They expect us to tire, or change players like them.

We do. The difference here is that Ares has been training main players and substitute players equally fiercely and he groups people not based on whether they are a primary or secondary player. Needless to say, big surprise waits the opposing team gloriously when they expect us to go on defense mode again, but Ares has nearly the entire of the team consisting of substitute players for the second round—and like what the Isaachian did prior, he makes our kids go hard since the beginning. The objective is clear—attack and conquer until the last drop so when the Isaachians tire out, he can pull the substitute players off the field, sending back the main where our strongest are, unleashing hell in the last minute.

That works wonder. Compared to how hard everything was prior, this one is smoother. No Isaachian kid predicted that their own tactic would be used against them but Ares scans everything like a preying lion and has various areas covered. Our substitute players are high in spirit, having seen how our hard work prevailed taking down strong opponents, _asshole_ opponents—now they are ready to give their share. If the previous Isaachian players were akin to a snowstorm, ours are like wildfire; they move seamlessly, combining the all-court offense with the isolate-and-block tactic Ares did so that they truly are uncontainable. The Isaachians are still fast and threatening. But our kids put everything they have and I find myself clasping my hands so tightly, so, so tightly until my palm hurts as if I’m being tied up. God—this is it—the moment. Are we going to make it through or not, or…

Someone yells. The spectators are silent because everyone wants to carve these moments in their minds. Nobody says anything. Players shout and yell either out of asking for backup or gasping when they feel like they are past limit. Isaachians still try their best to hold our offenses and at this rate it’s like speculating who will go down first—us, or them? Who will tire out first? This is summer. And the sunlight is strong as much as the weather is fierce too. The kids tire easily.

… But Ares did not train them the way soccer teams normally trained either.

Coirpre acts as Ced’s shadow so he does not have to sprint. “Give this to someone—I don’t want to retire yet…” Ced mumbles, kicking the ball he managed to take at Coirpre. He stands near the corner kick area, clutching on his thigh. Perhaps his leg throbs again. Perhaps the painkiller makes him feel too relaxed and sleepy that his body is about give up? Either way, they changed sides—he is now in the back while Coirpre groggily takes the front. An Isaachian player rushes at him, but…

Coirpre bites his lips. The defense is impenetrable still, but they do worry Isaachians can breakthrough. Everyone expects him to pass or throw the ball away either outside the field or at the goalkeeper to kick back, but…

Coirpre shoots forward! He stumbles, landing face-first against the ground. But…

“OH GOD, IT’S A GOAL!!” Miranda yells so loud that I thought I nearly lost half of my life. Wait—what?

“Yes, it’s a gooooaaaaal!” the announcer shouts at her mic, and before long the giant TV projects everything to the spectators, even for us at the sides here.

“Oh Gods!!” I scream so loud before covering my mouth in shock. Coirpre’s desperate shoot actually went through. It’s two against none now, and the clock keeps ticking… until the whistle is blown again, leaving the kids scattered over the field because they nearly cannot go on anymore. Coirpre shot a goal. The nerdy Coirpre, the bullied Coirpre, the so-called weak-ass spaghetti Coirpre j-just… just saved the team. His paces are staggering, clearly that he has exhausted every last drop of his energy in the second round, his arm is slung over Ced’s shoulder to help the latter walking out of the field. And my emotion just… just overflows so, so much that I quickly run to get them both while Ares races my steps with a drink. “Coirpre!! Coirpre, my Coirpre—oooh, dear gods, oooh, Coco!!” I quickly envelop him in a hug, all yelling and shouting while Coirpre hugs me back like he is halfway crying.

“Sis!! Sis, did you see that? I—I played sports… a-and I kicked—I…”

“Yes, baby, darling, my dear, dear Coirpre, of course I saw,” I feel like my voice is choked in my throat now. “God. Oh—my little hero. You really covered for Ced…”

Coirpre is much more in disbelief than I do. Needless to say, we are going to the finals!! My—God. Ares calmly approaches me, telling me that the other side of field has just blown their whistle too. It’s decided now—we defeated Isaach two against zero while Agustria prevailed between life and death against Grannvale by one to zero. So close. S-so close…

“We make it to the final,” I whisper while Ares nods.

“… Fighting Agustria…”

Ah, right. Agustria. And his father’s former boss and the one who cost his family a fortune and a series of misery is there too. At least thank goodness we are here, not having to go to Agustria yet. He looks emotional for a second and I can’t blame him. Perhaps the anger is there, just there, ready to be unleashed. What if said former boss—Chagall-whatnot was there at the final? It is common for a school donor or a district figure to attend events like this; after all, if they are one of the people who contributed to building a facility, usually they had a VIP seat reserved for them. And Ares will be here out in the open while that despicable man literally looks down from a spectator tribune up there.

I quickly make my decision. The kids are changing, hugging, and lulling themselves in the euphoria of victory—we made it this far, after seasons of being dormant and everything. Ares is still pensive as he packs his things, so stealing a chance while the kids are busy with themselves, I touch him.

He startles, turning at me. And I smile…

“… Angry?” I whisper softly, so softly like I’m trying to heal a wound; like he is unconscious.

He clenches his fists and unclenches them after a moment. “… You are there.”

“I’m here, you know,” I stop his fingers from curling when he is about to ball his fists again. “Like you. I’m here as always—just like how you are always there.”

“If I found him, I…” he murmurs. “I honestly don’t know if the same winter incident would…”

“You did not hurt anyone back then,” I brush my fingers against his. “This time you won’t either.”

“… Perhaps…” he exhales heavily. The sky is turning color—greying, as the strong sunlight begins to calm down a little bit. I spare him another comforting smile, turning around to get the girls. Unexpected to me, I feel a gentle pull from behind, so I turn around again.

It’s Ares.

He has that look on his face—a bit of nervousness yet with the naivety of a child; a combination of fierceness and desolate innocence at the same time. I thought he would chide me again, calling me a rabbit and all that—as I quite expected him to call me ridiculous for… believing that everything would just end well. Of course it’s hard—after all, that man nearly destroyed his family. That man pushed him to the cliff, causing him to nearly losing himself. Judging from how protective Ares can be, I won’t doubt that most of the anger and hatred he feels stems from seeing how miserable his mother had been, under the despair which struck their family back then…

“… I am not…” he whispers. “… You are here. I thought I’d be so angry when hearing that, but…”

“But you weren’t,” smiling, I twirl his mullet in my grip as like. “You are kind. You always are.”

“Perhaps because you taught me,” he smiles wryly. “Can you stay a moment longer?”

What a request. But I nod regardless, seating myself down on the bench as he follows suit. We stare into a distance, contemplating the vastness of the field, the green grass of the ground, the now almost-empty tribunes where spectators previously were. Agustria would be here in a few days. And Ares has to walk that path again—a chapter of his life he is dreading to revisit. Yet like karate it is in his blood; it is still in his dreams and spirit if not for the magnum opus project which landed him at Maera Hall.

We are sitting side by side like this until the sun shifts into a tamer, better afternoon one instead of the overpowering blinding one like prior. Ares sighs. Suddenly he stands up. His thoughts might have been killing him at this point, and I wonder how his parents would react if he came home this afternoon telling them that—yes, we are in the final—and yes, it’s Agustrian team we are fighting against. If Ares’ father was already worried sick seeing how frustrated his cub back then, I would not be surprised if he ends up driving Ares personally here like a wary lion. After all, even Ares understands—he is the fire while his father is this calm river with potent power underneath.

And outside of my predictions, suddenly he makes moves—karate moves.

“… That night was cold,” he mumbles, fighting an invisible opponent; his voice is so distant and floating that I’m not sure if he is talking to himself or visiting an old shadow… a sad and angry old shadow who had nobody to cry on. And now that he is feeling steadier, stronger, better, he is willing to share the burden, apologizing to the shadow for leaving it alone, broken and miserable…

“Ah, Ares…”

“I remember doing this,” he whispers, suddenly pivoting his leg sharply. “I did a katame-waza. Swept his leg to unbalance him. Regardless of everything, I am younger—stronger—and Manfroy was just an old filth whose face I easily dragged, ready to be smashed against the car’s front window. I did not know what happened next. I _knew_ it was a move, but I did not…” he growls softly. “And Chagall was pinned against the ground. It was cold, cold—and he seemed to expect me snapping his neck right away.”

He stops moving.

I shake my hand in silence, slowly standing to approach him. “Look at you.”

He turns around.

Just then I playfully punch him. “You could rehearse that here, revisiting that cold, cold merciless memory lane which robbed you of many things—your passion, fortune, and nearly so your family.”

“Ah…”

“And here you are standing tall and proud~!” I tick his nose. “And then again, Ares,” whispering softer this time, I make another playful punching motion. “You did not hurt him. You were so vengeful and angry and then you stopped. Look, I’m doing these anyway—“ shifting, I do everything I can think of—making repeated, various motions to lay a hand on him. Some, he dodges out of reflex. Some other, he blocks out of reflex as well. However… “See?”

“No?”

“Seee. You did not hurt me?” chuckling again, I conveniently yank his mullet. “Slow cub. Meow.”

“I see…”

“And then you utilized your power for… what? Helping and protecting me? Training and shielding the kids? Helping Coirpre?” I speak again. “Isn’t it easy to destroy? You know how. You know how to break bones and injure people—that’s what you said. And training to fight means preparing to do so.”

“… Yeah,” he throws a glance somewhere else.

“And you still did not,” I fold my arms, acting all impatient. “Heheheee. I saw your updates, you know? And you only want to spar blackbelts because you don’t want to hurt people~? So what is this conversation for again, meow? Let’s return to Thracia! The kids love you. They won’t have it if I said an alien abducts you. Come on, come on~!”

He looks at me. His eyes trap mine. For a moment he closes them, and fiercely opens them again as they dive deeper… deeper to sink themselves in mine. Suddenly he smiles. So faintly, yet so kind and soft that it is, really—almost taking my breath away.

“… Pardon me for staring,” he clears his throat, averting his eyes from mine eventually. “It’s just…”

“Ah—yes…?”

“… You are real,” he murmurs.

“Of course I am! And I am here too, I’m not a shapeshifter like your questionable species~!”

“I guess…” he sighs. In a split second he smiles at me. H-he bows? Like knightly bow-bowing! “On behalf of the lion population in the world, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“Now you are joking! I thought lion demons have no heart!” feigning a pout I yank his mullet instead.

“Trust me, Miss—I didn’t even know I have one,” grinning, he catches my hand.

“Oh, good. Now I’m going to get waza’d and gatame’d again,” I roll my eyes at him. “What is it now…”

“Returning-to-the-kids-gatame?”

“Awh. Like this?” I pat his hand.

“... If I may?”

“Hnnn~?”

“It’s just…” he scratches his head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m ready to face Agustria now.”

“Heheeee, that’s the dear Ares we all love, alright~!” I land a fist on his shoulder. S-shit, I keep forgetting he is trained and well-built—this one’s a sturdy fridge…

“All?” he raises an eyebrow. “… Does that mean—“

“Hnnn~?”

“Never mind,” he chuckles lightly. “I’ll tell you when I think I have enough to pay you back with.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?!”

“I don’t know. Currently, what I think I have isn’t enough!” he smirks. “So please be patient until then. If you like someone, though, you can always tell me so we don’t have to put you in a tight situation.”

“Eeeeh?”

“Right, right. And I’ll do everything for the kids to fight Agustria,” he chuckles this time.

“Your words are confusing!!”

“Admittedly my mind is a clusterfuck right now...”

“Then sort it out!”

“Exactly why. Please forgive this dumb lion demon while he takes time to learn Human,” he gently pats my shoulder. “Shall we go back? Ah, right—I’m really glad I did not accidentally hit you.”

“Nonsense. You will not,” grabbing him by the arm, I tick his nose again, all smiles and giggles as he checks on me for the third time in a minute. I wonder—what did he want to tell me? He had thanked me many times. So what makes it different this time? Hnnn. I guess I just have to wait? And what the _everloving_ _fuck_ did he tell me before—if I like someone? Oh, how dare he! As if it’s easy for me to like another person! As if it is the case, liking someone else—

… Someone… else?

Eh—this is so odd. L-let’s forget what I just thought—perhaps his mind isn’t the only one in a mess right now! After all, the final match waits for us and it will be Agustria! So better concentrate on that, right?

* * *

 

I’m ecstatic! Not only that the match is finally coming to an end and that whatever happens will still place us on the map, anyway—but aaaaa final!! Final, versus Agustria! So being a good coach that I am, I’ve been trying to gather more information about them and how they play all along. And oooh boy, our activities do not just loosen, don’t they. I’m _still_ drowned in paperwork! The good news, however, Professor Forseti postpones the art history presentation part, though—so it is supposed to be this week, but he decides to have it after Tirnanog Art Night, which is… good. I guess he understands that many of the folks who work Tirnanog Art Night also take his class, befitting everything, so he shows… mercy. Again, he is gone on a business trip for a week, but after calling me again into his office today to—again, sparing me some cash!—tell me about the change in the schedule, he said Fee does not have to worry because like prior, he will be home and just teach this time; not even for a month—the entire semester.

“My wife is recovering,” he says, after a pause—like he is contemplating whether he even needs to tell me or not. “And I suppose I have to thank you for the hard work concerning my son’s soccer team.”

“Sir, it is Ares,” my voice softens when I said it. “Um—the tall blonde of the architecture major—“

“Oh. Your bibliography in flesh and blood,” Professor Forseti replies with a small smile. D-darn it. “Well, Miss Bragi? For the groceries as always?” he rolls another wad of cash at me. “And the previous one…”

“… Left unspent, Sir,” I reply hesitantly. “I budget pretty nicely. And I got more work lately too, your seven-hundred is locked as emergency budget cash.”

Forseti stares at me. For a moment his lungs blossom for he is taking a deep breath now. “Just like her.”

I clutch on my dress.

“I’m not hiding her from you,” he says then. “It’s even been a while since I last communicated with her. I did not even know you were the daughter she willed me to help,” sighing, he clasps the cash roll to me. “There’s a thousand there. Be careful with your purse on the way home. And right—please inform the entire art history class regarding the presentation.”

“I will. And don’t worry, I’ve got a ride—“

… I really shouldn’t. He is not my father. And he is not going to be my father, alright. Even _if_ he was my father, how dare he just… comes and goes like the wind? He has a family he doesn’t even seem to be good at caring, so… tough luck if you want to bond with me more than this, Mister Forseti, regardless of what happened or did not happen between you and my mother in the past.

“This young Sir Tall Blonde of the architecture major again?” he snickers a little bit. “I’m more perceptive than you think I am. After all, art needs _that_ ,” again, he lets out a sigh. “I’m not prying into your private business, Lene. Whoever you decide to be with, frankly, is not even my concern.”

“Great to hear that, Sir. I nearly thought otherwise, considering how easy you prey into my life.”

He chuckles wryly. “Sharp. Just like Silvia, hmmm?”

I’m so fucking tired.

“Right. Forgive me. I’m not holding a grudge,” he replies mindlessly. “She just told me to take care of you, so again, and I mean it, if you need money, you can just call me. And Ced is alright. Listen—I know I’m a deadbeat father, but I’m not letting him sprawling like a fetus out of some damaged knee.”

“Thank you,” my reply is rather curt, but I take the money anyway. As if I had a choice. As if my kitchen and bills even had a choice. At least nice of Forseti there to admit he is a deadbeat father. Right, he has his own kids he needs to worry about, so he should just adopt them first before trying to befriend me!

The good part is, well, I have some nice money now. I’ll check if everything needs a refill or replace because… because somehow I just want to give Ares back for buying me the beautiful constellation hairpin! Oooh, right—I’ll wear it for the Art Night, hehehe~! Sigh, if only I could get a date as well. Should I take a taxi? I don’t want to run into creepers.

I’m so glad the final is scheduled before Tirnanog Art Night! I can’t deal with all the exhaustion if it wasn’t; better give me everything all at once so I can truly rest after. Having unfinished business sucks more than you think it will! And speaking of a match, alright—Coirpre has been doing that again, watching soccer clips. The teammates are already speculating about wanting to scout for information, and I don’t have the heart to tell them that—actually, Ares should know a thing or two because his family hails from there. And who knows, perhaps he attended Agustrian schools as a child? It’s not like he is not familiar with Agustria if at all—his blueprint is so detailed like he had been dreaming of it that he could just map everything with his eyes closed.

All the crazily packed activities around us nearly suffocate me enough that I really don’t have time to even mindlessly chit-chat my friends on Instagram or so. And Ares is busy, busier than ever. If he is not training the boys, he trains himself. If he is not training himself, he still works for his mother’s catering. And apparently, I just figured he has things in his hands too—getting all greasy-oily at a repair shop! That truly explains how he is able to make an old bike like Mystletainn runs again, then. Hnnn.

Imagine! That lion demon, getting greasy and oily under a car, and probably shirtless—

N-no. Better don’t. He is venomous!

But there is blessing too in this—he knows what it feels like to be so damn exhausted, to be so tired and hungry and everything because he isn’t lying when he said he mostly spent his time training and working! I wish I was kidding when some dudes—yeah, specifically dudes!—who attempted to get close to me think I’m bluffing when I said I’m tired. Yeah, they think being a dancer only means I get to be pretty and doll myself with beauty products and all that. If only!

… Also, what is it with me, Ares, and a shirtless Ares? Actual lions at the zoo are even naked!

… S-shut up, potato of a brain.

Speaking of whom, somehow we have been spending more time together too, more than I realized. The matches practically have us together at nearly every occasion, but like—like, it’s getting familiar, having him delivering me home when our schedules match and if he does not have a shift at the repair shop. Coirpre seems happy too, especially when he stays long enough to dine with us because I arrive home pretty late as well. And… and not only that. He seems to genuinely like my brother. That he actually makes effort to bond with him. He could have dropped me, but as he starts opening up to the world and the people around him, everything else follows suit—he really is… one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever known to walk this Earth, and probably Saturn—I mean, he’s only alleged human, you see?! The other sweetest guy is probably Lester or even Coirpre, but while he is my actual brother, the other is bro of the group considering he is my bestie’s brother. And Seliph—right, Seliph. I know I like Seliph, his softness, kindness, everything—but like, who cares if Seliph works at a repair shop while possibly being shirtless or not. Who cares if Seliph has an expression of a curious cat or has a charming smile when the corner of his mouth twitches…

I mean…

Ah, brooding again. It’s Ares’ job, not mine!

… Ares again…

Then Fee comes bearing a bomb. Apparently Ares called their household to check up on Ced. He really is personally concerned about Ced, and for a moment Fee thinks it was so sweet of him to just ask if Ced needed a doctor without at all mentioning the match. He said if Ced decided to withdraw himself because of undergoing treatment, he would have everything sorted.

… Fee told me her father smiled a little after the call. He truly is sincere. He did not call Ced just because Ced is an ace! S-speaking of which! How come he called Ced but never called me??

… W-what… did I just say again?

Alright, how about this, then—let’s call him! What disaster can it bring? It’s just a call. Just a call…

But what will I talk with him?! He is already applying a no-midnight texting policy when it comes to contacting women because he does not want to come out as a creep unless it’s really important. Oh, right, he said he’s going to help me switching light bulbs if that is the case since he is tall, hnnn? Is there a light bulb needing a change—

This is ridiculous. I AM ridiculous. Why am I dying for him to call me?! Not even that—why am I dying to call him as well? And why am I dying at the idea of _receiving_ a call from him?!

… This alleged lion demon has the tendency to speak so, so tenderly with that trademark husky voice with a touch of light baritone sound. I—c-can’t…

Alright, I can. At least he won’t see my face. He wouldn’t know if I’m choking on a frog in my throat because his voice makes me breathless or if I attempt to suffocate myself with a pillow because he will be at the other side speaking on the phone! It’s just a goddarn phone call! And due to our business, neither I nor he communicated further about strategies to fight Agustria! And I want to ask him about Coirpre too—is this even helping, Coirpre watching old football matches clips?

Haha, ridiculous. If he needs it, he will call. Why would I call? Feh!

I throw my phone onto the bed, mindlessly browsing my own dancing videos for an inspiration for the Tirnanog Art Night. And perhaps I can squeeze some practices with Diarmuid in between too, after all, he is the singer, and even if he is not going to dance, it is my job as his stage counterpart. And I need to think of my solo soon… oh, this is nice. Dancey. The lyrics are pretty fun too—what is this again— _Dum Tek Tek_ by Hadise? Does not seem too bad, since Diarmuid’s song has Latin American music in it! And I’ll be dancing Latin too with him, this can be used as a balancer. Pretty artsy too. Hey, I like this song. I guess I’m indeed a potato who fancies older songs…

Let’s just call Diarmuid! Shooting him right away is better than endlessly scrolling through his Instagram’s saga, or as Larcei put it, normal dumb o’clock at the Nordion household—men only.

Diarmuid, Diarmuid, Diarmuid… huh, I’ve been using texts and internet messaging features more often that the regular calls that I forgot to set this phone to display by first name first! Now let’s just find letter N… hold on, Diarmuid _is_ a Nordion, but his last name is not Nordion, isn’t it? Ah, right, Diarmuid Nordion-Lenster. L and N are pretty close! So I scroll fast and just call.

Huh, there is no answer. Pick it up, D! I need to sketch and plan my dances and outfits after this! Then the Thracian girls are waiting for me to be coached!

“Currently unavailable. Leave your message after the beep. Thank you.”

Sigh, what is the use if it just goes to voice mail. I want an INTERACTION!

So I set back my phone and begin listening to that _Dum Tek Tek_ song one more time. Ahhh, fresh sequences of a moveset begin to manifest in my mind! I quickly scribble my plan down, making notes and even drawing a bit. Right in the middle of working, my phone buzzes!

_You called?_

Huh? This text… h-hold on. Hold on!!

_Is this Ares??? OMG!!! :OOO_

_I am?_

Oooh gosh. I must have chosen the wrong Nordion!!

_Oh, no problem!! That was a mistake!_

_Talk to me._

_Eh?_

_I have 10 mins, bathroom break._

_N-no need! It was pure mistake!_

_You sure?_

_Y-yes!! Why? :O_

_You aren’t troubling me. Go on.  
Sorry I couldn’t pick up—I’m at work._

_OMG really it’s OK!!  
I really misdialed I wanted to call Diarmuid!_

_… Diarmuid?_

_Yes!! I’m so sorry omg u_u  
I really didn’t know you were at work ^^;_

_… Diarmuid Beowulf Nordion-Lenster that is my cousin?_

_Ummm. Yes? Omg is that his full name? :O_

_... You have his number?_

_Yes! It is for the Art Night ^^_

_… How…_

_Eh? :O_

_And why?_

_Eeeeh??_

_… Never mind. I’m sorry._

Huh? Why is he apologizing? I should be! After all, I misdialed him!

Alright, now to find Diarmuid’s number… ah, here it is! God, h-how did I dial Ares instead…

“Heeellooo~?” says the cheerful chirping at the other side. Ares won’t answer like this, will he? Then this has to be Diarmuid? I just want to make sure.

“Diarmuid Beowulf Nordion-Lenster?”

“… Y-yeah? Who is this?”

“D? It’s Lene!” I giggle into the phone because he sounds like choking on his own liver! “Sorry, did I startle you? My phone acted up that I accidentally called Ares instead!”

“Oh, dear gods,” he chuckles awkwardly. “Usually when people call my full name like that, they are about to kick my ass—like my mom. Or Ares, when I skip training with him.”

Oooh gods. Alright, that does explain it. S-sigh. Alright, I get the phone conversation I wanted! Diarmuid and I discuss the dances, and I help him picturing the sketch by giving him a visual guidance, considering I’m busy. He offers to send me a recording of his own rehearsal at Tirnanog later, so we can see the stage as a fully-furnished setting. That will help me to see the stage too, considering coaching and attending the matches make it hard to juggle time to be in Tirnanog again with Diarmuid’s schedule fitting mine. Well, Diarmuid simply agrees, saying he can just have Nanna or someone else to record him and have it posted on his Instagram, tagging me. If everything goes as planned, he says, Larcei and Iuchar will come to rehearse with him.

That is settled, then! Let’s just hope Iuchar won’t be getting on Larcei’s nerves as much that she ends up chasing him around Tirnanog with a machete. Now, onward to the final match!

Our respective businesses practically keep us away from each other. My girls are exhausted too, but there is no time to just stop now that we are so close. I need some extras to power up my girls; I begin researching safe strength-training and stamina-boosting workout routine for underage cheerleaders because in the end they are still kids and I don’t want to burden them more than they already are.

My girls so-called kidnap me from school—Larcei loads me into the car, patting me in the back while Altena grins, waving behind the steering wheel. Smirking, she puts up a villainous tone and everything, and somehow I feel so incredibly shy like a puddle when she speaks into her phone. “I got your girl.”

Fee chuckles, saying that they have met Altena in campus, feeling great because she just landed a third interview with a company where everything seems to progress smoothly that she decides to share the treats she bought before coming to school. Lana holds up a box of Master Cakes goodness to show me, and I really, really am thankful for having good caring female friends like them. I swear, perhaps we were sisters in our previous lives, hehehe!

“The coach needs to rest too,” Fee pats me. “That’s right—let’s pamper ourselves!! We’re taking you to a beauty salon! These days I’ve seen you literally running from one place to another.”

“Not a bad idea,” Altena throws her beautiful silky brown hair behind her back. When Larcei rolls her eyes at her, she grins. “Hey, I’m not high-maintenance. It’s just the boys who are cheap.”

“I like that kind of thinking,” Fee immediately grins back. “Hey, your phone buzzes.”

“Ah, it’s just some nerd, pick it up on speaker,” Altena flashes a feral smirk, and I low-key wish to die again knowing well it is who I think it is! Aaa—

“Speak,” says the rough, deep voice from the other side.

“SISTEEER!!”

We exchange glances at each other. Altena shrugs comically then. “Awh, Ares got Leif.”

O-oh, alright. G-gods.

With this one, I feel readier than ever. I eventually catch up with Ares, and in a short while we load into the bus once again, to conclude our journey—the final match in Belhalla stadium!! “This is it, boys,” Ares speaks in the bus while the kids look at him with resolve. “Let’s give everything you have. Trust your judgment—we have followed various tactics and strategies, it’s time to combine them all at once. They are well-rounded but doesn’t mean undefeatable—put more power and hold on. I do believe if you can get past their agile middle-fielders, the rear guards can be lured out of the penalty box with nimble feet, but that will be the hardest part.”

“So what should we do?” Coirpre whispers.

“Give me the fastest and strongest you can be in full time,” Ares nods. “Ced, I’ll only send you in during the half time of the second round due to your knee. Give me a _magnificent_ fifteen minutes of play time.”

“I’m ready,” Ced grips his backpack. “You trained us in the way we have never before. You made us run and jump in the water—kicking tree trunk—I’m feeling better more than ever.”

“And you kids endured them well. I’ve shared what I know, the rest is up to you,” Ares replies solemnly. “And remember—above all else, have fun. You are the best kids a coach can hope for.”

“G-geez, Coach N, you are making me feel like crying,” Miranda mumbles. “Alright, let’s _annihilate_ them!”

We get into the field. Arthur and Fee wave at us with camera and camcorder in hand. We shake hands with the other teams; they are being civil but distant, which I don’t really fault. The big TV begins to give a bird’s eye view and zooming in into the players, to us, and basically shooting at every angle of this stadium. I’m busy giving instruction to my girls when something catches my attention.

It’s Ares.

He gets up, staring at the screen with trembling, clenched fists. I look at where his eyes land—it’s showing a somewhere-corner close to the bench—the VIP section, revealing a blond-haired man who is probably in his late-forties with prominent nose and narrow square face.

“Ares…?”

He growls like he is in pain, surprising substitute players who are sitting nearby.

Needless to say, perhaps this is it—Ares’ nemesis, his nightmare personified. He does not say anything as the match starts while this Chagall person is also oblivious of everything, all smiling and laughing while reporters come up to him, wanting to know why he invested in the stadium, airing it as players are taking their positions and waiting for the kick-off to start.

“Oh, it’s nothing. If we are in a higher position, I think it’s time to give back, after all,” despite his answer, he carries himself in a rather regal demeanor like someone who is aware he belongs to a different class. “It’s nice knowing a penny means a hundred for some people.”

Ew, what even _is_ that?! Someone tells this dude to get over himself that no, he’s not some lordling of the age past talking down on the peasant townsfolk—and even if he were, I assure you, the disgruntled masses would so love to have him dethroned, replaced by a more benevolent person!

Ares’ personal grudge aside, the match keeps going. As expected, the Agustrian team was strong and we expected nothing less from a top team which made it so far into finals. So we alter our tactics—lure them in, lure them out like we are waging a guerrilla warfare. We’ve successfully taken their strikers out to the sides of the field. We thought we have held their defenders pretty well, but their middle-fielders turn out to be as swift and nimble as Ares predicted. Everyone holds their breaths when our goalkeeper haplessly kisses the dirt after desperately trying to defend the keep—to no avail. Agustria just scored their first goal, and that alone is enough to vanquish half of our kids’ fighting spirit as they can only stare when the referee blows his whistle.

“Let me play,” Ced squeaks. “Get me into the field! I want to do something!!”

“Silence!”

The kids stop murmuring. Some drop their towel, and I nearly jump out of my seat. Ares bellows like a growling lion, his expression being dark and destructive at the same time. This seems to take a toll on him as well—not even the goal just now, but Chagall’s happy, smiley face, clapping while looking enthusiastic not knowing that the son of a family he destroyed is here, battling his bloodlust while trying to guide the kids under his tutelage to victory.

Ares sighs. His hand fists into his own mane as he grunts. Reaching for a water bottle nearby he lets out a heavy sigh one more time before taking his eyes off the ground. “… I am sorry.”

Nobody says a word.

“… We’ll prevail still. You are all shocked,” Ares’ voice returns to normal shortly after. “Ced, I’m sticking to my decision. Remember, this is a team not a one-man army,” he says. “Don’t despair. Just do what you do—that was an ambush and you did right by locking their strikers at the sides. Their middle-fielders are tough and fast, so let’s reach them before they get to take the ball first. And this is why I want you to be on your prime for the whole, whole time—let’s break into their defense, with power.”

“Understood,” a couple of kids mumble.

“… Are you alright, Coach N?” Sara tugs on him.

“… A little bit not,” there is a wry smile in that usual firm face… “Kids?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Forgive me. That really wasn’t actually directed at you, but that was still uncalled for—I’m sorry,” he ruffles his mane once again. “Let’s keep fighting.”

“Coach N?” the kids crowd his bench. “You should take it easy too. You’ve done so much for us…”

“Yeah! Would you like a hug?” Sara swims into his chest so suddenly. “Coach Bragi makes us hug. Since my grandfather hardly even hugged me, I never thought hugs were actually this nice, so… hug?”

A-awh. S-so cute and touching. Hnnn. D-don’t shed a tear now, Lene. D-don’t—

“… Thank you, young miss,” Ares purses his lips, but his eyes, though—those eyes speak of pain. Are you hurting there, my lion…? Would you share your pain too? It saddens me seeing you like this—how long have you been in pain? Is it always this aching, or is it worse today? Does it feel like having your healing skin being ripped and torn again, worsening an old wound—or is it creating a new, fresh wound? ….

The kids are back into the field, leaving me with Ares and a couple of substitute players including Coirpre who are too tense gluing themselves at the ongoing match. I quickly dig into my purse, finding my go-to strawberry candies I often have with me. W-well, it’s strawberries! And even their wrappers are cute! “Ares?” I call on him softly. His back slumps, and he won’t need to tell me that he is swimming in regret right now. I’m not waiting for him to answer me—instead, I simply take a seat beside him, shoving a candy into his palm. It looks so small now that it resides in his hand…

“Eh…”

“Take it!” I cheerfully point at the candy. “If one is not enough, I’ve got plenty! After all, your aunt said sweets made you happy, right~? Why don’t we heed the expert there~?”

“I’m ashamed.”

He hardly ever blurted out his raw emotion before, but there he is, conveying everything to me in a simple manner. I raise my hand, bringing it closer to him. And for a moment he closes his eyes, like… like waiting on something…

“… Ares,” I call on him again. And with it, I take his face, gently rubbing my fingertips over his cheekbone on the right. He makes a humming sound—my, my, this dork big cat…

He slowly opens his eyes. “I—I thought…”

“Nooo. I know what you were thinking. Nooo,” I repeat it in gentler, softer tone; with my thumb still caressing his face. “I know you are hurting. I trust you still. I’m not slapping you, you know?”

“Perhaps you should have.”

“Do you beat up wounded people? Nooo~?” chuckling, I softly pull his mullet. “It’s alright. Come on, it’s alright. You see, the kids understand—they do not hate you for that. You can do this and I know you can.”

“… Hrrrh,” he makes that distinctive humming sound again—oooh gods—is he… PURRING?! Awww!! A-ahem. T-this isn’t the time to open the debate regarding his species—no, no! “I should have…”

“Ssh. It’s alright,” I whisper to him again. “It’s alright.”

“… I guess…” he pops the candy I gave him into his mouth. “… Lene?”

“Hnnn~?”

“… You are sweet. Thank you.”

“The candy you mean!” I let out a giggle whilst poking his ribs. “Heheee. Perhaps too sweet indeed!”

“No. I’m perfectly sure of what I’m saying,” he nods in a humble manner. “I’m troubled, but I’m sober.”

“Hmmm? Why, you know I’m not saying you are drunk!”

“I know,” there is a thin, soft smile on his face when he responds. “And I am not.”

Hnnn?

There is no time to argue that part, anyway—the match is still going, and Agustrian fighters try to derail by easily throwing the ball out of the line or stealing it from us only to have it thrown outside. They are also a fond of kicking back the ball at their goalkeeper, only for it to be thrown outside the field or kicked deep into our area of the field while most of the players are concentrated at _their_ area of the field. With nobody else picking up the ball and their busy defending their own line, as a result there are many wasted kicks!

Players gather to the bench again when the whistle is blown to mark the end of the first round. We are still holding them by none against one, so I think it’s still worth-cheering, considering how they have been pitting us at a dead angle all the time while deploying agile middle fielders to halt us. The kids are tired—they have done what Ares asked, going on full power and speed most of the time. It’s just sad because the Agustrians were still managing to toy us like a backed prey, with their ball-throwing and everything in between. Ares is not saying anything while the boys rest, and I have no time to worry about him—this is my time to shine. When my girls take the field, I position myself in front of Ares—and the kids…

… And I dance. I follow our song, our vocalizations—the girls’ crystal-clear voice cheering for Thracia, shouting Latin mottos to empower the team. I follow them all. Throwing my hands up in the air I twirl and spin, doing what I know best like breathing—dancing. Doing the one and only skill I know the most in my entire life. Nobody says anything—and Ares… his eyes are glued at me. But unlike many dirty stares and wolfish curiosity I received every now and then, he pays close attention to… my movements. He has that childlike curiosity as his eyes travel to follow my movements. Behind me, sounds of people shouting and yelling—including clapping and Thracian supporters humming to follow my girls’ shouting our mottos, this part of the field feels so, so… calm. That’s right~! I do what I know the most—refreshing you to let your weary soul rest for a while! Flashing a brilliant smile at my own little crowd here, I wink at Ares. “Right! Forget your trouble for a little while! Watch me, and keep going after~!”

The spectators erupt in applauses and praises by the time both cheer teams and school mascots are done presenting their performances. Not wanting this to end quickly, I take charge as my girls begin to return to the bench. “Thracia!!” I make sure my voice is heard clearly. “Thracia! Invicta! Victoria! Fortissima! Bravaaaa!!”

There is a momentary silence after my cheering—not for long because our supporters at the tribune quickly follow up. My girls grin and smirk at me, with Karin giving me a thumbs-up. “You’re a rebel.”

“Thracia! Thracia!!” people shout loudly, clapping and stepping against the tribune floors to serenade their own yelling. Haha, I got carried away myself! I turn around, feeling satisfied now that the boys look refreshed as well. Raising my hand once again, I give a thumbs-up, this time at the tormented alleged lion demon who has been faithfully watching me…

… And he returns my gaze. Slow but sure those ashen eyes return to the very familiar sharp stare I know—fierce but gentle, resolved but merciful. He nods…

“Alright, kids!” his deep voice masters the benches once again. “The ladies here have done their part to cheer for us. Let’s not make their effort wasted! Team, by me!”

“Here!”

“They love to throw the ball back at the goalkeeper so that he keeps it away from you, correct?” Ares smiles now. The corner of his mouth twitches like a giddy lion marking his prey, knowing well everything will proceed the way _he_ wants this time. “Then give me _twice_ of your speed and power for the entire round. Let them kick the ball at _their_ goalkeeper.”

“But…”

“Then when he gets it, _seize_ the ball. Mercilessly,” Ares keeps going on, firmly, ferociously, making a gesture of a sharp slash under his neck. “Kill them. They are not the only ones who can play dead angle. Destroy them at their own game—remember, a good defense is a passive-yet-deadly offense!”

“Oooo!!” the kids nod vivaciously, quickly assuming their position when the second round starts.

“Coach N?” the softspoken Sara squeaks once again, tugging on his vest. “I’m a bit curious…”

“About that tactic?”

“No,” she shakes her head softly. “… If you are not a player, then what actually is your background?”

“I’m an architect!” he chuckles simply. “… Who happens to do karate.”

… Oh…

“Oooh wow!!” Sara beams while Ares puts his index finger on his lips with one eye closed.

“… You are healing,” I murmur right beside him. Somehow I’m feeling overwhelmed as well. H-he could say that… even if it was only at Sara, it’s like he is slowly reclaiming his personhood back, and he is going to clutch onto the things he holds dear this time. The Ares people deserve to know; the Ares who is not just the so-called scary Black Knight whatsoever…

“Are you sad?” he whispers. “Am I making you?”

“N-no. I’m just—I-I’m just…” I told myself don’t spit it out here, a-and yet somehow m-my emotion is…

The game starts again. The atmosphere is changing—it’s like there is this potent, renewed resolve and fighting spirit blooming in the air. With the sun tilting a bit as the day approaches the afternoon, it’s like I can see it written in the skies—there is hope. There is a way to get out of here. The first ten minutes pass without yielding any result, and suddenly the whistle is blown, with Coirpre leaving the field, to be replaced by… Ced.

“My knee is ready,” Ced makes a swift sweep upwards to show Ares like a roundhouse kick.

“Oops,” Ares, raises his elbow to block Ced by the ankle out of reflex. Grinning, he nods back. “It is.”

“I’ll tear the skies to rain you tornado!” Ced responds.

“Good. I _do_ want you to _kill_ ,” Ares merely smirks—at least before I yank his mullet with a huff.

Ced is in while Coirpre is out. “I-I’ve done…” he stutters a bit. He can’t breathe. It’s like he’s exhausted the air he keeps in his lungs and now gasping for life. Ares takes him aside while the girls help him sitting. Holding Coirpre by half of his back, he puts a gentle push there. Commanding him to inhale deeply, he sincerely praised Coirpre for doing well, understanding that my little brother has long pushed his limit because previously he could even hardly run in a long time.

“You are great,” I hug Coirpre from behind. “I’m so proud of you, really.”

“You are great too,” Coirpre grins back between gasping for air. “Jugdral’s number one dancer!”

Hnnn. Previously he didn’t even seem to have a favorable impression of what I do. So… progress! Aaaa—

There is no need to wallow in our deep emotions—we watch the game again. Agustrians loosen their guards a little bit, knowing that we haven’t been able to score anything and that they want to unwind because they begin to tire out of receiving constant barraging from our strikers. Ced lets the opposite team’s middle fielder get past him to steal the ball he possesses. Said middle-fielder dribbles—as expected, he aims to kick the ball back at the goalkeeper so the latter can throw it out, wasting time and keeping the ball safe from us.

… Except it’s not happening.

Right after the ball is kicked, Ced slips seamlessly like a haunting wind—making a beeline, getting past the defenders in a heartbeat. He manages to corner the goalkeeper one against one—deeper, further than the penalty box, stealing the ball from the goalkeeper with a quick sweep before launching a murderous shot straight into the keep.

“Aaand here it goes… oooh, it’s a gooooaaaal!” the announcer’s lively voice sends spectators into frenzy as half of the stadium groan while the other half cheer.

“It’s a goal!!” I jump with Coirpre beside me while Ares clasps his hands together, sighing in satisfaction.

“Thunderbolt!” Arthur shouts from the side line. “Yeah, Got a nice shot there.”

“You’re still here?” I grin at him.

“Journalists must be respected,” he smirks back at me. “Ares, my man! Can I get a few shots of you?”

“No.”

“Shit,” Arthur acts like he is sulking before running again to take photos and record the matches. It’s so relieving, being able to laugh after a disaster! I settle to sit beside Ares again as Coirpre’s face slowly retains its color back. The game is not over! We still need to hold on. We still…

Ced fulfills his murderous promise—he has made another sweep, stealing the ball again shortly before it gets to reach the goalkeeper. Spectators clap and yell like their lives are depending on the noises, and three tough-looking defenders have Ced backed into a corner. So he acts fast. Turning around, he does something unthinkable—mirroring…

Right. He throws the ball back at _our_ goalkeeper, who wastes no time making a powerful kick to get it across the field. While Agustrian players are trying to locate where the ball may fall, Ced and the strikers seem to know where it is heading even before it lands—a striker makes an overhead kick, which is received well by another striker. Ced is still running in the middle, confusing the hell out of Agustrian defenders who frantically try to guess a pattern—who will shoot? Ced? The strikers? Which striker?!

Ced keeps running. The striker who received the overhead pass dribbles the ball at him…

“The center-fielder!” I can hear an Agustrian rear guard shouting. “That spinach-haired kid will shoot!”

“Green hair is pretty, you fool!” I reflexively shout from the bench here, like the big girl I am (not). S-sigh! Gods, not only Coirpre is giggling now—even my girls are too! Awh, so much for being older! I slightly tilt my head upon feeling a soft touch grazing my ponytail from behind, only to find… him.

Ares has a hold of my hair strands! “Right.”

“Ares!” I gasp when he gently caresses the strands before letting them go.

“Hmmm?” he quirks an eyebrow with a subtle smirk.

“You pancake,” I huff, pinching his upper arm until he grimaces and winces.

Ced is not done causing rampage! Agustrian defenders make a line to fence him, but…

“Oooh!!”

Ced grins. He kicks the ball aside, and Agustrians breathe relief and smirking at the same time—he is close to the keep, and yet he is going to throw the ball outside the field? Why is he granting an easy, free throw-in for the opposite team like that? …

O—oh, oh, dear gods. That is not the case. Ced tumbles backwards after forcing his legs to run in tornado speed for a while. But… but from the side… t-there is a striker quickly catches the bait after he passes it through! The striker quickly catch up with the other two strikers, with one serving as a decoy while the two scissor across the field—zigzag, diagonal passes like… like a dance. They keep running until their cheeks puff and pale, maintaining the murderous full speed and power as Ares wanted.

One of them eventually shoots. It’s so high. T-too high…

I close my eyes. Will it be a draw? Penalty duel is a cruel way to end a game. N-no. No—!

… No. No indeed. The other striker outflanks the rear guards, receiving the ball with his head as he presses—keeps pressing, pressing… until…

There is a grunt coming from the keep—said striker smacks his face against the side of the keep, but he keeps salvaging the ball, fiercely kicking it just seconds before the goalkeeper manages to even touch it. The little rounded bastard turns sharply turns, bounces, until…

“… Ares…”

“I saw,” he smiles at me.

“D-dear gods, I…” I can only clutch on him while the announcer practically _screams_ into her mic announcing a goal. Agustrian players hold their heads low, tired and sad on the field while my kids are ecstatically punching the air, jumping, hurling the striker with bruised face into the air with his teammates waiting from under. Substitute players and my girls _leap_ into the field, joining a messy, chaotic pile made of euphoric kids hugging and squeezing each other.

“We won!!” Coirpre screams while an exhausted Ced lies on the grass, bobbing his head at Ares. “Ced! Don’t you dare dying on us! Let us carry you back to the bench!”

“Yeaaah!” the other kids respond quickly, peeling the tired middle-fielder off the ground, hurling him above their caring shoulders.

“Oooh, this is so good! Even I’m in tears! And believe me, even my tears are satirists,” Arthur chirps as he steadies his tripod and rapidly takes photos. “Well, Mister Coach? Some photos for your alma mater?”

I glance at the dispersing crowd. Ares is fidgeting slightly even when the kids are crowding near him, showing off the gold-colored trophy, medal, flower bouquet, placate… and I smile again. “Sorry! The kids are tired enough after this. Um—you can always catch up with Ares at school, right~?”

“Oh,” Arthur curves his lips. “Right, right! Alright, victory Mom and Dad—herd your kids,” he grins.

“… Oi.”

“Hurting a journalist is a crime against humanity and freedom!” Arthur sticks his tongue at Ares, grinning and saving his ass before Ares can even glare at him. With him leaving us, that is left for us is to return—back to where our bus is waiting, back to Thracia… that one first, and the rest later…

The kids cannot stop chirping and laughing as they relax those tired feet. Filling their throat with the ambrosia that is water, suddenly Ares nudges me. “I think I’m checking the minimarket in a moment.”

“Needing a drink?” I poke him unreservedly.

“Perhaps,” he chuckles back. “The kids were not the only one with anxiety there.”

“I’ll go with you~! The Uncle Driver is already there, I guess we can leave the kids by themselves so they can… um, celebrate?” I bounce to follow him. “Heheee~! I think some ice cream would be nice…?”

“… It sounds good,” he speaks after a pause. “Actually, you are right. Let’s just get ice cream—again.”

“Foregoing the beer?” I poke him in the nose. “Why~?”

“Maybe it won’t be necessary,” he smiles this time. “And this way we don’t have to split the bill.”

… Eh? “H-hold on. You are treating me.”

“Well, it’s called buying you ice cream,” this time his chuckles leave his throat. Wow, it seems he is much, much more relaxed than he admits! He has been smiling and grinning like a cat. As a coach, he is sure happy as well! But what prompts this ice cream-eating?

“What if they only carry strawberry flavor…” and again, I’m an imp.

“I’ll eat it.”

“Oh, really… I thought Mister A-H-N here is deathly allergic to sweets…”

“I touched you and I didn’t die.”

“Eeeh?”

“… Right. Or perhaps I should just… rather than…” he clears his throat.

“Should what? I’m only joking, honestly who cares if you eat strawberries~? If lion demons aren’t used to eat it, then perhaps you can be the first and only one!” I hop on the ground, imagining a virtual numbered boxes like one of those games kids play—rectangle box divided into smaller boxes, numbered, and they hop over them? Yeah, that one~!

He stops walking. Oh, that’s the minimarket, just at the corner of this parking lot! Coirpre flashes the _ugliest_ grin I’ve ever witnessed so far when he catches me walking with Ares while the others are still busy with either the victory or the loss. Perhaps supporters from both sides are still lingering around that they haven’t come here to get their cars, too. We do not say anything until Ares breaks the silence between us, appearing so awkward and rather—should I say… shy—because there is this soft pink shades appearing on his face somehow? But why? Did he catch Coirpre grinning at us? He wasn’t even looking at the bus!

“Lene, I’ve been thinking…” he scratches his head, looking fidgety like he is restless and eager at the same time. “I think—I need to tell you something. I’m not sure if you’ll laugh, though. Actually—yes, laugh if you must, I guess—because you probably think I’m joking. But I am not. I’ve tried so hard to understand this, but I guess sometimes some things are best to just be… felt?”

“Hnnn?”

“… Shit,” he sighs before quickly turning at me again. “No—sorry, that was not meant for you.”

“Oh. Alright…”

“I—must admit that I actually like receiving messages from you,” he starts again. “When my phone buzzes in the middle of me sketching, writing, calculating—even when I was at the repair shop—“

“Y-you texted me when you were all greasy-oily-messy- _sexy_ working on car machines?”

“What?”

“N-nothing!! I mean—I mean—you take your phone while you are doing cars?”

“… Lene, I’m not doing that. Or cars. Or _that, with cars_.”

“Uh—n-no, I mean—I mean—oooh, you work on vehicle machines,” I scratch my head this time.

“Yeah, the pay is pretty nice and I learn a lot,” he grins.

“I see. And shirtless?”

“… Shirtless?”

“Uhhh—like—like… oh, definitely not, r-right? Work hazard!”

“Hmmm? Don’t worry, I always carry protection,” he deadpans. “… Are you blushing just now?”

I’m so sorry, Ares, b-but—this time, please die! Not permanently though—otherwise, I’ll be sad! Hnnnh!

So like the very smart, bright, and responsible person I am (again, not), I conveniently yank his mullet! Still, I’m heading to the minimarket while he tails behind me, opting out for some bottled coffee instead of the beer like he wanted prior. Hnnn~? Is it just because of me? Hehehe, such a cute cub! Regardless, I pick up a pack of strawberry Pocky under his not-so-subtle smirk because—yes, sigh, it’s strawberry, I know, I know!

“Will that be all?” I ask him, looking at his purchase.

“Yeah. I’m good,” he replies simply. “I’m not drinking in front of the kids.”

“Or you can have your quick drink here before we return?” I ask him again.

He gently shakes his head with a smile. “No, rabbit. It’s alright, really.”

“Oh. Okay, Sir Lion,” smiling back, I put my Pocky before the cashier and he settles his bottled coffee beside my snack. I’m just about to open my purse but he already draws his wallet real quick, handing the cashier a banknote before eventually giving my Pocky to me…

“Cheater,” I pout.

He chuckles. “You are welcome.”

We are heading back to the bus. Ares is walking beside me, alert as always although this time he is already used to my paces that neither of us trip over each other. He is rather quiet, I wonder… “Ares?”

“Yeah? Oops—“ he pauses, looking at my finger pointing at the tip of his nose.

“Got you,” giggling, I run that finger insolently over his cheek. “Brooding again! What did you intend to tell me before we got to the minimarket?”

“… Ah,” he clears his throat. “Rather than that, is my cousin… treating you well?”

Hnnn? Cousin? “There is no rift between me and Nanna, ever! Oooh—my God—did she say anything? Did I borrow something from her that I broke? Dear Lord, what did she tell you again?”

“No,” Ares, getting even more awkward somehow, rubs his nose with his thumb. “… I mean Diarmuid.”

“… Diarmuid?” now I am confused! First of all, Diarmuid seems to be decent, so… yes? And I hardly even talk to Diarmuid outside of sending him memes and weird movie clips. Let’s see… oh, right, the last time he contacted me, he asked if I knew Patty Jungby from Lester’s band! He seems to think I’m this social butterfly who is everyone’s friend and friend of everyone, which… I have to politely tell him, such person is Fee~! And I’m not giving girls’ phone numbers without their consent as well!

“… Yeah. Diarmuid,” Ares clears his throat again.

“Hnnn~? Ohhh. My, do you really think he is a pervert? Don’t worry, he is not. And sure he is treating me well!”

“He better,” Ares opens the bottled coffee and… huh, he gulps half of it in one take!

“Brooding,” I take his arm. “Did you play jump as a kid? Can you? Come on! Hold on to me. Then jump~?”

“There are no boxes or numbers,” the corner of his mouth twitches when I jump.

“I saw it,” I point at his nose. “You are smiling.”

“And what of it?” he finishes the coffee, throwing the bottle into a nearby bin.

“Then I succeeded, duh,” I stick my tongue at him. “You are no longer brooding~!”

“Haha, is that so?”

“See, now you are laughing. Jump, jump~!”

“Alright, alright. Like this?” he follows suit. “If there are no boxes and numbers, how should I?”

“Follow your heart, Ares, meow~!” giggling, I form the Roman number three with each of my hand with my fingers, again, insolently planting both hands on his face. “Now you have whiskers.”

“Following my heart, huh?” he suddenly grins… and—uh-oh, I smell it. The leonine aura sparks revenge. There is that looming dominating mischievous vibe about him the way he playfully locked my wrists just to shower me with praises. Suddenly he takes me by the waist—gently, still, as the way he will always when he needs to hold me! He lifts me off the ground, spinning me around as his steps merrily tread over the imaginary hopscotch. “One, two, three, one two three… four?” chuckling, the spin follows as his foot lands and stomps. “Six, seven… eight…” he bends me a little bit, swaying me left and right as he hops. It’s funny, really—and actually, I am comfortable. Because his touch is gentle, but those arms are strong and perfectly steady that being in his… I don’t know, embrace does not really feel fitting considering this is just us goofing around, but… well, with him moving and everything, I’m not actually disturbed. I trust Ares. I know he won’t let go, I know he won’t make me fall—

_… Because I’ve already… fallen…?_

“Look at you, dancing,” I fake a pout, hiding a small smile because… because he seems so happy and free, following suit just like that—playing hopscotch too, even! And having no qualm to just… just following me, bending to my will. I’m aware I can be like this, you know. I expected him to call me a rabbit or even frown, but… b-but he did not this time. Like he understands I’m having a merry time and that he has no problem following suit, catching up with my rhythm, aware that I’m trying to lighten up his mood.

“Dancing?” he chuckles. “… Nine, ten… hop! Done.”

He puts me down back onto my feet. My heels reach the ground safe and sound, stable and alright. His touches are always like that—mindful, courteous, and most of all… protective. Why did you even talk about Diarmuid, you alleged lion demon? Why must you make me contemplating Diarmuid? You are here. Does he even matter? Again, you are here. And I played this with you. I’ve never pulled this on anyone else, you see, and I don’t think anyone else would react as kind as you did…

“Yes! I tell you what, perhaps you should go see the Tirnanog Art Night, meow!” laughing, I tear the packaging of my Pocky. “And thank you for this. I like this, you know~?”

“As if I won’t be able to tell,” he grins. “It’s just Pocky.”

“But I like this, so it’s not ‘just Pocky’~!” I draw a stick out of the pack, handing it to him. “Awh. Perhaps we should take six of these so you have cute pink whiskers like the cute cub you are, meow.”

“… Lion cubs do not meow…”

“They do now. I’m the one with authority here, Mister Nordion.”

“Alright,” he takes the Pocky I’m handing to him. “This is so pink.”

“Sure it is~!”

“… And seems too sweet to eat.”

“Ares, the Pocky is over there, you are looking at me!”

“… Am I?” he innocently looks down.

“Yeah! And you are holding it wrong—see, it’s reversed. You eat from the top—the one with the topping! The uncoated part is to hold~! Oooh, gods—you have never eaten this?”

“Definitely not.”

“Not even other pink-colored snacks?!”

“… No?”

“Heheee~! So I am the first one to ever make you?” I really, really cannot contain my laughter any longer. Why is he is so innocently endearing like this? I don’t even know dumb can be cute!

“Yes. You are my first—I mean, the first,” he scratches on his nose again. “So…”

“Flip it first,” I reach for his hand while he reflexively glances down again. A-and just then…

“Eh…”

“U-ummm!” I gasp, rubbing on my nose. H-his nose bumps into mine! Our faces are so close to each other now. And being this close I can even smell his cologne. And I quite like it. And he looks so handsome, so alluring even at such close angle, and still maintaining that gentle touch as he reflexively reaches for me for accidentally tumbling backwards. H-he is just there. Right before me. So perfectly present—flesh and blood, being so audaciously dashing as his eyes warily scan me for injury.

He puts the Pocky and holds it still between his teeth. There is that subtle playful gaze again; with his copper-colored eyes holding mine captive. I should be dead now because—because I can’t breathe somehow. But no—as shy as I am now, I feel so… alive. So nurtured and cared for exactly because he is being like that. I—I wonder…

His lips curve into a pleasant small smirk—yet _primal and raw_ at the same time. “… Show me?”

“… Eating… Pocky?” I really wonder how my body put the GPS in my vocal chords because supposedly my voice lost its way before him like that.

“Yes…?” his voice only drops even lower, lower… huskier than a whisper of a night breeze.

I tilt my head. T-this Pocky game, I know it—it’s popular, it’s everywhere, and perhaps even lion demons like him know about it. Taking the other end, my eyes meet his again—again, we are just… just this close, this unguarded; what is left is merely a short strawberry Pocky stick before us.

“You can just tell me I’m not holding it right, though,” he chuckles.

“Oh—oh, y-yes…” aaaahhhh!

“… Do you want to say no?” his soft tone startles me. I shake my head—blushing, blushing madly now. “… No?” he asks again, even gentler this time. I bite the other end, and he seems to understand s-so…

So he follows through, tracing the other end with his lips. Are all lion demons… this… _pleasant?_ He sure is. H-he _sure_ is captivating. Such short slender biscuit does not take long to finish, with a combined effort of two people. He is coming. And he is close. He _is_ close. I can even touch his lips without effort if I want to. Do I want to? He is just—just so—so Ares… why is he closing his eyes? Is he waiting on me? Is he expecting me to do something first and only then will respond accordingly? He never takes; he always asks. And somehow I trace his temple with my fingertip…

“T-that injury when you got hit at the Yied has healed?”

“Hmmm? Oh. Don’t worry, I’ve had worse.”

“… That’s not what I’m asking, Ares…”

“Then yes,” with that same flat tone he manages to vanquish my doubts and worries. So perhaps…

I tilt my head. He withdraws a little bit to give me more room so history will not repeat itself on our noses. When he sees me pressing forward, he slightly arches his back to follow suit. Wow, this Pocky really is actually thin. And the coating is nice too. And the lion is—

S-something is creaking—

“It broke,” he says in his typical deadpan manner, pointing at the Pocky.

“Mm. Y-yeah,” I nod, trying so hard to hide how shamelessly red my face has become. Perhaps it’s the case with him too—there’s still remnant of crimson shades reigning over his cheeks. He only had that coffee, right? He did not drink, right…?

“… You were nervous,” he states frankly with a smile. “Not ready?”

“W-was I?!” N-not ready? Not ready f-for… for what again, to be precise? Error 404 Not Found!!

“Perhaps? Did you bite into this too hard?”

“I am not the biter type, excuse you!”

“… Hmmm?”

“Oh—“ goshdangit, gos _fucking_ dangit!! I quickly clam my mouth shut, unable to look at him any longer. My hand is pressed against my mouth like—literally, literally—at least if my brain goes potato again, the potato words won’t come out! Darn it, darn it, _daaarrrrnnn it!_ He must be _not_ human!

“It’s alright, rabbit,” he chuckles, patting my back while drawing two more sticks from the Pocky pack I am clutching. “I’m not robbing.”

“Y-you just took my Pocky!”

“Only these ones,” he smiles purposefully. “I’m not taking _something other_ by force.”

“S-something other?”

“Yes?” he chuckles this time. “And I swear on my ancestor’s name about it.”

“T-then what is this something other if you have to swear like that?!”

“Since you are confused, only wise for me to leave it at that, don’t you think?” h-he laughs! Egregiously, even! Hnnnh! You _cabbage_ pancake! “Shall we return? Altena might give me an earful if that dumb cousin of mine thinks you are kidnapped—again.”

“Dumb calling dumb, dumb. How dumb,” huffing, I drag him deliberately by the arm again, where the bus is waiting. “Still! Now that you had strawberry Pocky for the first time, how was it~?”

“Sweet?”

“And that is okay?”

“Yeah?”

“… Uh. Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he keeps smiling and chuckling, even when we get to the bus. Half of the kids are already fallen asleep while the other half will only need to count minutes before they follow in their friends’ footsteps. As always, he takes the back seat while I climb from the front to get the front seat, where Coirpre has set a seat for me beside his.

Caressing my super-tired little brother in my lap, from under my lashes I can see Ares makes more room so Ced can lie down more comfortably; his head is on Ares’ thigh while he occupies the half end of the backseat since he stretches his body like that.

“Coach N,” the kid mumbles.

“How are you, Ced?”

“Half-dead.”

“And the knee?”

“Not throbbing.”

“That’s good news. Aching, champion?”

“No.”

“Good. Sleep tight.”

“I shall,” Ced yawns loudly while I quickly tilt my head again before Ares knows I’ve been observing him. Turning my attention back to Coirpre, I set my purse aside so he can lean on me more comfortably while I can position myself better. The faint vibration causes me to snatch the purse from my side at a lightning speed, finding a simple text which I do not need to question where it hailed from.

_Meow._

Awh, mission accomplished then? Grinning, I bite my lips, typing back with the very coherent and intelligent reply, of course (again, not!)— _You pancake._

… I think I can hear gentle chuckles coming from the back seat.


	14. Dearest Lion, Darling Rabbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally planned this story to have 14 chapters, but in the process of writing the finale, it took WAY looonger than I expected, so I decided to add another chapter. So yeah, 15 now, and even then the closing chapter will still be long. I am truly sorry.
> 
> Anyway, my personal computer is at the repair shop. I'm using a family's spare, not sure if it's because it is old but that computer's Ms Word ruined the spacing. I'll come back to hunt for typos or odd formatting.

Well, the match season is over now! I’m so glad I get to relax a little bit, but the most important part is that I finally have the time to finally take care of my own business since previously half of me truly was in the matches. Gosh, honestly, looking back now I don’t know how I managed to do it all! The stress was overwhelming! The tension was high! The kids’ anxiety skyrocketed! The lion was—is—sweet!

… Now hold on just a little bit.

Hnnn. Admittedly, somehow Ares is like diabetes…

I mean—I mean, totally sweet! And he seems to be happier too—he chuckles and laughs more, and this time it is not just because he is around the kids. Is it because he is no longer stressed because our team won? Other seniors appear rather stressed because their course work is killing them, but he seems to be so at peace. It’s like if previously there is something which just screams Black Knight around him, this something dissipates.

… Well, not entirely. I mean, he’s still Ares. And he is still dorkish like that. But there is just that… something… where he was previously murderous but now it’s just… Ares.

Well, he’s always just Ares for me, but…

Ah, I can’t put it into words! It seems he is just happy! He smiles often when we get to meet at school. Like somehow he is just there, even more frequently, as if he was previously hidden by the universe because we were not supposed to even see him. I-is that exactly because he is a demon? Hnnn.

But my point still stands! He seems to start talking more to people—I mean, again, he is still Ares, the Ares who does not seem to fancy empty chit-chat or basking himself in a social situation which he isn’t keen on participating in. But at the same time I can see that his trademark murderous glare has changed, errr, evolved—into something that isn’t sharp. If previously it sounded like _touch me you die,_ it’s now more of _don’t disturb me as I don’t disturb you._ I caught him asking a thing or two about… errr, sports competition I guess—to Larcei, asking if she is interested to compete or not. In the same day but different time he is chatting up Fee, apparently talking about cars that he shares tips with her. Fee thanks him profusely because there is something about her car which needs attention but not knowing where to start, and with Ares’ tips, she can do some early check to figure out what is wrong.

When he sees me approaching, however, he nods and smiles.

Now this is the important part—I don’t know why but I find myself tongue-tied when he does that!! … S-somehow. Even with Fee poking me here and there because usually I will hop around him to mess with him, somehow I-I’m still… unable to say anything. Ah, sigh!

“Hmmm? What’s wrong, Lene?” Fee pokes me when Ares still talks about cars because I’ve been silent.

“… Right, best to pay attention when these noises particularly occur. We can do a test drive if you want,” he glances at his watch before turning at me—again. “Hello, rabbit.”

“Uhhh. Errr,” like a total human being I am, I respond like a legit human (not).

“You know, come to think of it, the noises often occur when turning a corner. There’s this low pitch under the car too somehow,” Fee clasps her hands together. “There has to be a reason…”

“You hide a dead body,” Larcei deadpans.

“That can’t be, it has to be you!” Fee responds.

“If there is no dead body, then perhaps you need lubricant. Changed oil recently?” Ares asks again, replying with a total straight face. As if realizing he just deadpanned like that, he scratches his head, quickly correcting himself before anyone points out anything. “… I mean the car.”

“Of course I know that, duh!” Fee screams even louder compared to what she did Larcei. She looks at me, noticing I haven’t even said anything. “Lene? Hey, Lene?”

“Um? Eh—oh!” I quickly gasp out of reflex now that she waves her hand before me. “Sorry! I heard!”

“Why are you so quiet?” Fee chuckles a little.

“Well, I don’t have a car…” there it goes, the looming feeling again. And this is not just about the car in question, but like… the feeling of not being able to balance Ares somehow. I know I should not feel this way, after all, but somehow… especially after the matches… it’s just—it’s just that he shines and there are things where I still feel like he is too far unreachable to me…

“Hmmm. Not because of a fever or something?” Ares turns his attention at me, looking me straight in the eyes. His eyes dive down onto mine, and with it he brings his face closer as well as his hand starts to feel my forehead.

“… Um…”

“What’s the matter?” he asks with that typical innocent frankness he does.

“N-nothing…”

“Hmmm?” he hums—again, with that … m-murderous low chord of his now that he has the audacity to drop his voice even lower. “Are you sure? I can take you if…”

“N-no. N-no. Y-you can take me another time b-but. Not like, now!” I guess I dig my grave even deeper because—because I blurted it out loudly near the mischievous Fee who has her impish expression ready again. Oh, God, I’m going to kill her. I’m sooo going to kill her! AAAA—

“How sweet,” she sing-songs from the corner. “You can take her, she said…”

Ares has that small _leonine smirk_ on his face, though. “Only if she is truly, truly sure.”

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“What do you think?” he merely shrugs before smirking even wider then. “Later, rabbit,” he nods at Fee before leaving her with another instruction to check her steering wheel and whatnot to see if her car merely needs lubricating or seriously damaged.

“Really, Lene? You are still like this?” Fee coos near me. “And heard you and him were sweet at the field.”

“I’m so going to kill your boyfriend.”

Fee sighs. And I sigh too, because… b-because this is dangerous! I keep telling myself that lately Ares appears more humane than the only alleged human Ares as he typically would… appear to be. So why is it once he appears like a solid-human instead of only alleged human I start t-to… to fidget? Like I get so, so awkward when he is being the endearing Ares kind of Ares. And I wonder—m-my cheeks feel burning but I don’t want him to know that I _do_ think he is cool, and he kind of looks… handsome?

… Alright, he is. Not kind of—just is, period!

… But why? Aaaah! This is weird! Lester is not bad too, and not even Larcei’s twin Ulster. But like, I don’t even care if Ulster has the face of—I don’t know, insert anyone you know as handsome here—because… because I don’t care? So what is it about this lion demon because if he looks at me like that, I can die!

“Oooh my God. What do you think he meant?” I nudge Fee again, who still looks apprehensive somehow. What? It’s Ares I’m talking about, so what is this about me ‘still being like this’ as she put it?

“Really, Lene?” she huffs now.

“Alright, I won’t kill Arthur. Now tell,” I muster a menacing tone with an evil look.

She laughs instead! Hnnn! “God… girl, you are so helpless.”

“What?! I thought we were friends!” I heave sullenly because Fee simply turns away, looking like she truly restrained herself as to not murder me right away—or at least before I kill Arthur. Helpless? Helpless like what? And why must I be? I merely told Ares he could take me—like… I don’t mind if he wants to take me home again. I don’t even mind if he wants to hang out too because… because after series of our so-called hang-outs due to the soccer matches, I do think that going out with him is nice… be it at the cat café where he got to be this endearing awkward dork or herding a bunch of kids at that one high-end shopping mall in Miletos. Hell, it was even nice, actually, watching him coach the kids. He was firm, yes, but helpful and patient at the same time, like he quickly assessed each kid’s potential and weakness. And despite steering those kids to maximize their potential, he never demanded perfection like some coaches do—I’ve seen it, I was with the cheer team too in high school, anyway—like those coaches who shape their athletes to be masculine-strong but like, yelling and shouting all the soul-crushing things because supposedly the athletes should be able to take everything with a straight face without showing remorse, because apparently if you are sad considering you are called names and being doubted like all the time, then it proves you are weak instead of—you know, a human being.

Now there’s that. What I don’t understand is—h-how come I’ve been thinking of him lately?! Yes, there is that! Like, lately he is on my mind! His actions are on my mind that I even noticed he chatted Fee for the car problem thingy and for a reason I can’t explain, my face felt warmer than _burning_ when he bent down to look at me like that. What? I’m pretty sure it is not because he is taller—I can always kick him in the crotch so he whimpers and bends even lower so our height matches~!

… B-but why should I… hnnn, I don’t want him to get hurt… and perhaps it’s for the best of interests considering… considering I’m feeling so incredibly shy just because he bent down to look at me, w-what would I be if he was truly, truly within a reachable distance, looking at me so intensely while asking if I was okay… oh, he did that a couple of times. Like when he touched my face after that Yied Avenue incident. But like, what if, he, from such close, close distance…

My chest feels tight somehow. Like there is this explosion of… feelings—perhaps!—that I almost cannot contain anymore. I wonder, why am I not feeling cheery as usual when I accidentally caught Larcei texting Iuchar under the desk? Why am I peeking from behind Fee’s shoulder when she rapidly texts Arthur back and forth exchanging humorous lines and all that?

“Look,” she pokes me, showing me her phone.

“Snarky Sunshine,” I giggle a little bit at the nickname she assigned for Arthur. Snarky, but a sunshine to a particular person, huh… “Guess what I’m thinking,” I read the text she sent Arthur. Returning the phone back to her, my lips twitch a little bit. “Really, Fee? You’re showing me your… eh, pillow talk?”

“God. No,” she pats my head insolently. “Look again.”

“Not me,” I read Arthur’s reply. “Oh my God. He _knows_ you.”

“Read the follow-up,” Fee chirps again, appearing so casually unperturbed at all.

“Because now that we’re texting, technically you are talking to me and no longer thinking,” my eyes quickly follow where she points. “With smiley emoji! The audacity.”

“Right?” Fee chuckles. “That’s Arthur for you. Cool-headed and can level my mischief~!”

“Oh, I see…” somehow that looming feeling—mood—or whatever the right way to call it, returns. Without realizing it I’ve been scrolling her phone, catching glimpses after glimpses of their texts for each other and I’m absolutely—floored. In a good way, really, too good that it somehow my chest feels tight again. Arthur may be snarky, but that part of his bites Fee back just right; just as equally witty like the exact amount of sweetness that is simply right for her. “Fee—you called him poop?”

“Hmmm? Oh. Yeah?” she casually looks at me. Holy God, not only she just casually called him that, she brought a manicure kit to school? And if you think that is all—she is using it, using it in the most literal sense now that Lana and I are hanging out in her classroom, at least until her class starts. “Why not? I like him and he likes me. Poop for boobplate is a fair game.”

“Wh—what?”

“Well, you know, that time when Larcei and I bundled at the library without you and Lana—with Larcei designing some art work for a project and she did this fantasy-themed one featuring a lady knight that she needed armor reference,” she smirks—rather wryly this time, perhaps remembering something embarrassing she would rather not. “And before you protested—Lana is busy saving animals out there…”

“Ouch. How nice knowing that I’m the only one uninvited by my best friends,” I fake a pout.

“Come ooon, you were busy conserving animals too,” she chuckles, softly pulling a strand of my hair out of my ponytail. “… You were busy domesticating a lion.”

“F-Fee!”

“I am right, though, I am right! You and Sir Lion were herding your cubs to a match.”

“Pupils!”

“Alright, alright, pupils…” she grins. “Parents have their own way to call their children, anyway…”

“Fee!” I pout.

“Lene!” she pouts back because I pinch her. “Right? You had match-date with Ares…”

“Nooo! We are professional…”

“Professionally holding hands…”

“Fee!”

“Lene!”

“FEE!”

“LENE!”

“G-gods,” panting, I finally give in because darn it, somehow she always, always manages to yell louder. “And Ares said I screamed so loud? He never met you.”

“Maybe because it was him and it was you?”

“Fee—“ sighing, I slump on this random stranger’s desk I’ve been hijacking to hang out in Fee’s class. Gods, she really, really has that shit-eating grin again… so being the not-nice person that I am, her hair will turn into some messy pixie because suuure I’ll ruffle that to my heart’s content that it would look like as if she just got propelled by a rocket launcher! “Why am I being teased again? It’s supposed to be about you! Oh, r-right. And your armor selection caused Arthur to call you that? Creeeativeee.”

“Well, I didn’t even know that a good armor is not supposed to shape you like that,” she sighs.

“Didn’t know, you said, yet you kept teasing…”

“For starter, my Lene, I’m not Ares.”

“What?”

“Right~? I’m not the one who becomes half-dead so suddenly just because my pet lion talks to me with voice so deep and rich like that,” she keeps poking me, ticking my face here and there.

Hnnn! Well, _fuck you too,_ Fee, f-fuck you for being… right? Yes. Why do I feel like _melting_ just because that lion demon audaciously circumsized his octaves like that?! Circumsize something else, you _attractive_ asshole!

(W-wait…)

“I tell you what—let’s do a quick test,” suddenly she grabs my phone. Ah, that was unexpected! Tsk! N-now she is scrolling for Ares’ footprints there. “What did you name him again… Sir Lion?”

“W-what for?” my face must be deeper than red now. How did she even find him so easily like that?

“Test?” she chuckles again. “This thread alone contains 150 messages? Wow, you are so _active._ ”

“But what test?” I want to take my phone back from Fee but she swats my hand instead. Sigh! A-and—yes? Oh, dear God—yes. I’ve been communicating with him even more lately, especially with the matches and everything. What if there are 150 messages exchanged between me and Ares again? T-true, previously I objected to lie in bed texting him and all that but after _actually_ lying in bed texting him and all that, it kind of feels weird if a day passes without doing exactly that. Like something is lacking somehow… “Fee, you know your phone is still with me too, don’t you?”

“I’ve got nothing to hide, though. Arthur and I are good—I like the Poop,” she grins—again.

“Yuck,” I stick my tongue at her.

“You know this old saying that says when you are in love, poop tastes like chocolate…”

“Yuuuck,” I stick my tongue at her, but laughing along regardless. “Girl, you fell hard.”

“Not as hard as you, you know,” she flashes yet another shit-eating grin at me. Well, regardless of her approval or not now I know that at least being in a relationship makes you more prone to flashing shit-eating grins to your friends… I guess. Also—me? Falling hard? I want to protest, but Fee hands back my phone to me, prompting me to hand hers back too out of reflex. She shakes her head in a rather disappointed manner when I look so chill. “Come on, check,” she urges.

“Huh?” I look down. Oh—God, she truly contacted Ares! Worse, I’ve given back her phone so I didn’t have anything to take back as leverage. W-what did she even write? I swear, I’d kill her if—

_What are you thinking?_

I read the message she sent Ares. Huh? It mirrors the newest conversation she had with Arthur! G-God. What _will_ he think, receiving something like that? But at the same time, I kind of bask in the idea that exactly because he is only alleged human that there is no reason to be worried. Besides, so far so good. I mean—he is decent, after all. I can fully trust Ares that he is not going to make me do what I don’t want to. He won’t even dare to suggest! He always asks!

I begin to smile then, albeit awkwardly. It’s just an Ares! Only alleged human too! “H-haha, if you mean to provoke him or anything, he won’t bite. If you think he will bite just as easily, I suggest you think again because as dumb as an Ares can be, it’s still an Ares with a lion radar—he knows that you’re with me, anyway...” feeling my confidence slowly returns I flash a smirk back at Fee, but just my luck there, my phone buzzes again! Before I can snatch it back, Fee already did it first.

“Oooh, must be him!”

“Aaah, give it back!”

“If you are so sure, then why so worried?” Fee has the gall to actually stick her tongue at me! However seconds later her smile disappeared, replaced by a totally surprised expression. “… Oh, God.”

“Hnnn? What’s the matter?” I peek at my phone, still residing in her grip. But unlike prior she can barely hold it well—it’s like whatever that is there is enough to totally shock her. Fee still looks too appalled to say anything, so I just take back my phone from her… and read whatever it is there.

_You. Why?_

… I’m frozen as well. T-that’s… that’s—THAT’S—!!

O-okay, calm down, calm down. A-and what of it if he is thinking of me? Hmmm, now come to think of it, did I ever borrow anything else from Ares besides that library book that I forgot to return? Did I?

_Me? :O_

Again, me and my clever reply.

_Yes. Are you truly well?_

Eh?

_… Or is there an ass I need to kick?_

Eeeh?

_Eh??_

W-why do I have to type the way my brain makes its noises…

_Right. Or an ass I should break?_

H-hnnn?

_Oh—oooh, a person you meant… ^^;;;_

_‘Ass’?_

_Yes? You don’t actually mean…  
Y-you don’t actually mean BREAKING BONES?_

_That can be arranged._

W-wew…

_Eeeeh??_

_If necessary :)_

Regardless, everything calms down a little after I assure him that NO, there is no ass he needs to destroy here except Fee’s. And probably mine too considering we’ve been fooling around with him and I scrolled through Fee’s messages that she messed with me back. God, as always he is ever ready and protective like that! Maybe with me being like this I made him worried about me too much?

_Do I look like a damsel in distress... -_-_

_What is this damsel in distress thing?_

_You… don’t you watch action movies? ^^;;_

_I do. Why?_

_It’s when the hero’s girl is in peril :O_

_Haha, so you are my girl?_

_Helpless indeed? u_u_

_Even if you are, why are you at fault?  
It irks me when people take advantage of you._

Oh. Logical answer, and makes sense…

… But why do my cheeks even feel like they are _scorched_ now that he said that? And—and why ‘haha’?!

Lately this so-called accidental bumping—or… let me be specific, accidental Ares-bumping—happens more than anything! And by lately I mean like… right here, right now, just how it has been for these past few days! There would always be something, something which causes us to meet each other face to face. Ah, this is so cliché! Do I have lion magnet or something?! This week sees me nearly bumping against him for the… I can’t recall. Seventh time? Ninth time? Because somehow his classes are located in the same building where my classes are. Either I’m lucky or cursed, either our majors are destined to entangle each other beyond my art history bibliography, our footprints simply entangle with each other.

This time I encounter Ares walking with another dude I do not recognize while I just returned from lunch with Lana. She is supposed to meet up with Seliph on the way from our lunch, but somehow our chit-chats brought her to follow me here. W-well, I should not be the one talking, considering I have followed Ares straight to his class simply because I kept chatting with him…

“… And then we will build that housing complex in a pentagon,” I can him talking to the unrecognizable dude as they walk through the corridor. The other dude looks rather… eh, how do I even phrase it—uncomfortable? Like it is as if he wishes he could _fly_ out of the windows right away! Ares does not seem to realize anything, though—he keeps talking, reflexively positioning his body rather inclined to the front while this other dude responds half-heartedly like… he is gulping. Again?

“P-pentagon?” this other dude squeaks.

“Yeah? Because…” Ares, still unaware of pretty much everything, frowns a little bit when the other dude is kind of… fidgeting. “What’s the matter?”

“O-oh, nothing! H-haha, hahaha—w-wew!” he _yelps_ now when Ares arches his body forward.

My, what a heartbreaking scenery to behold! Ares did not even do anything, anything at all! “… So that’s what happened in the weekend. Seliph did not say, but… b-but did he do this just to other people? Oooh gods. W-what do you think? Seliph is not joking, don’t you think? H-he better not. What do you think…”

Oh, goodness, I nearly, nearly did not pay attention to Lana who is all having Seliph-induced existential crisis because my eyes have been fixated on Ares and that stupid other dude he is with! Lana seems to understand _very well_ what have gone through my mind because she stops talking, nudging me. When I look at the direction she points at, it’s almost like that dude is close to actually piss his pants! What?

“Hi, Ares~!” I wave at him. Hnnn? He nearly trips on his own steps when seeing me, but I secretly appreciate that he stops to nod back, even with that typical small smile he tends to wear on his face. He looks rather casually-airy somehow even if his clothing’s color tone is still dark as always. He has his backpack slung over one shoulder as his other hand carries a file folder. There’s a Rotring pen tucked behind his right ear, and judging from two wooden rulers he clutches in the crook of his arm, I bet he is going to draw again. Is he cheerful because the drawing room is haunted and that actually delights him, considering he is only alleged human? Hehehe, perhaps we can exchange selfies again like prior?

… Why am I thinking of that out of anything else I can think of him again. Sigh.

No, why am I thinking of HIM out of anything else I can think of?!

“Hello, rabbit and rabbit’s friend,” he mutters with a straight face. “… Right, lately we see each other more often. Is it because our majors are related to art?”

“It’s Lana,” out of reflex I ruffle his mane while that other dude is like—gaping at me. What?

“Oh. Hello, lantern.”

“Ares, it is Lana…” God, Ares just killed Lana in cold blood! H-he really is only alleged human, who on Earth in Jugdral-U has the heart to murder _Lana_? Not even Ishtar’s handmaidens would dare!

“Lana and Lene are close. I don’t like the possibility of calling the wrong name,” he deadpans. Meanwhile Lana, ah, blessed her heart, sweet as always, simply smiles and giggles a little bit!

“It’s alright if you want to talk to Lene. I was just about to look for Seliph here…”

“… Seliph Dickwad Baldos Chalphy is here on the same floor and same building like me?!”

“Hnnn. Don’t scare Lana like that!” huffing, I yank his mullet out of reflex while the dude who walks with him looks like he is about to drop his jaw to the ground. “Are you drawing again?”

“Hmmm? Yeah. Actually, this one here is my group mate…”

“It’s Ian,” the stranger-dude finally says something. “God. We take this class together, you know.”

“I remember faces more than names,” Ares responds. So that explains all those nicknames?

“You truly are a lion,” why, this really tickles me! “And this pentagon design?”

“Ah, right. The shape is convenient,” he remarks innocently.

“N-no wonder,” his group mate mutters out of reflex.

… Oh, gods. I understand now. Ares’ reputation is just that terrifying that he scares people without even having to do anything! But… but again, the classic question ensues—he is just… there, existing. Suddenly the Ares who went with me to the cat café flashes in my mind. Then the tender Ares that follows after, too—the Ares who let a tired Ced sleep on his lap, the Ares who nursed Coirpre, the Ares who took care of the kids when we went sightseeing in Miletos, the Ares who actually gave me that beautiful constellation hairpin, the emotional Ares at the field and at the sports store…

“Then why don’t you tell me more about it~?” I quickly take his arm. “I’ll listen to you. Come on~!”

“Sure. For a playground…” he says, but a moment after he loses his voice at an instant. “You are smiling.”

“Hnnn? Yes? And what of it?”

“… Nothing. I, uh…” why, somehow he scratches his head? “The pentagon is to fit with the allocated land so we won’t need to kick anyone out or demolish houses.”

“Really?” I beam at him. “Awh, you are so kind! But I know you are nice like that,” chuckling, this time I ruffle his mane again until a glimpse of my own watch startles me. “Oops. Time for the next class. Bye, Ares~!” I wink at him, casually grabbing Lana with me. “Where did you plan meeting Seliph again~?”

There is no time for Lana to answer me or for me to pay attention to what Lana says because we hear a loud thud sound coming from the other direction. Turning around, I can clearly see that it is… Ares? At least coming from him! Hmmm? Huh, h-he just dropped everything he carries! Both rulers fell haplessly to the ground and everything he kept in his file folder scattered all over the floor.

“Oh, my,” I quickly drop to my knees. “What happened?”

“I wish it was easy…” Ares mumbles, scratching his head with a disgruntled manner.

“Hnnn?” I look at him, pulling him closer as he follows suit to kneel and gather his own things with me. “Oh. Perhaps you are the one that is unwell? How about I look at you a little bit too…”

“Don’t.”

“Eh?” h-he turns away? Oh my God, did I forget to use deodorant?!

“T-there is no need.”

“Your voice trembles—“

“You are too formidable, it seems,” he sighs. “Hmmm. An opponent I can’t defeat…”

“W-what?”

“Later, Lene,” he quickly gathers his things and… disappears! In the speed of light! Meow, that is right!… Sigh. Not even Team Rocket does that like him. And what is this about me being the opponent he cannot defeat?! As if I was the one with a black belt. As if I was the one who put another in a wristlock! Thankfully, there is no time to waste to fuss over Ares and his rather-odd statement like that, because at the end of the corridor, Seliph gloriously emerges from the men’s bathroom and waves at Lana! Wew, at least Ares has gone before he saw that. What if—you know, now that his brain is full of these… errr, weird things about defeating an opponent, the moment he saw his _real_ opponent he’d turn Lion.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Diarmuuuuiiid sorry to suddenly bother you :O_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _  
Ah, Our Lene of the Stages! Yes? Is this about the Art Night? :D_

Hmmm? Oh, right, right—good God, I almost forgot. But really though, I’d only need a few rehearsals with Diarmuid for synergy. Speaking of Diarmuid, why is it that Ares… seems… errr… I don’t think he hates him—after all if anything he does look like he loves his family to the bones and veins. As an older sibling myself, I _know_ Ares cherishes Diarmuid—he speaks to him the way an older brother typically would. If you wonder why he looks dumb, though—worry not, brothers are dumb indeed.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Oh, right, there’s that too~! But more importantly, Ares…_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _  
I’ve recorded my latest rehearsal at Tirnanog. Check my last post :D_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _  
Ares??_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Yeah! Did he ever say he wanted to fight me or something? :O_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _  
… Fight you? O_o_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Yes!! Like if he ever wanted to DEFEAT me! If he thought I was a formidable enemy to take down! If he wanted to beat my ass!! If he wanted to have me geri’d and waza’d. … What are geri and waza again?_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** **  
** _OH DEAR LORD HOLD ON_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _  
ARES—WANTING TO BEAT UP A LADY??? YOU MUST BE REFERRING TO A WRONG ARES OMFG_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _  
Especially the girl he likes_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _  
Also, kicks and techniques._

 **_dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _  
Anyway where is this wretched Ares so I can beat him up?_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_Oh_

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_WAIT WHAT????_

Holy God, that truly makes me pause in the middle of a corridor!! T-the girl… Ares likes? I have to ask Ares. I have to ask Ares!! I—have—to—

B-but why? Hnnn, my phone buzzes?

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_I heard a sick thought from Diarmuid. Of course not, your hand is to hold not to break._

W-wew?

… W-WEW???

 ** _dancedancerebellion_**  
_AAAAAH, ARESSSSSS_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Where is Diarmuid omg_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
Why are you screaming? I broke my hand on my first attempt snapping a board. It really hurt. Why would you want to get hurt? Why would I even want you to get hurt? Why would I even hurt you?_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
And to answer your question—dead._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
YOU KILLED DIARMUID????_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _  
By the power of my mom’s excellent stir-fry, he’ll raise again. … Are you concerned of him?_

 ** _anblacknight_**  
_Also, where is this wife-beater bastard with the same name as mine whose neck needs snapping?_

F-forget it. Aaah, dumb lion and his equally dumb cousin! Why must you say the darndest things with a straight face like that?! Stop making my heart do figure skating-level acrobatic flips, darn it! J-just like how easy he is to paralyze me without even realizing the tremendous power he has. That tender tone when he cares for my well-being, for example. That soft look he has and the way the corner of his mouth twitches when he looks happy. Darn it, he said socializing was never his forte. Then why on _everloving bloody fucking_ Earth that he easily makes me so restless like this? Hahaha, have all the stupid smiles and laughter all you want, dumb lion—yes, including that legendary deadpan manner of yours! Don’t wail and scream agony when I get to truly vanquish you with a kiss so good you thought you were dead!

… W-what… did I just think… again…

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _HEY LANA_

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _Ahhh hi, Lene! ^^ Yes?_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
HAVE YOU EVER WANTED TO KISS SELIPH_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
What?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _OR WANTING HIM TO KISS YOU_

 **_nunsfighttoo  
_ ** _… Lene?_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _LIKE YOU WANT TO FLOOR HIM BY JUDO-THROWING HIM BECAUSE LIKE, HOW DARE YOU TO BE SO DUMB AND AT THE SAME TIME YOU KIIIND OF ALSO WANT TO KISS HIM BECAUSE LIKE, HOW DARE YOU TO BE SO CUTE. THEN JUDO-THROW HIM AGAIN BECAUSE HOW DARE YOU TO BE SO CUTE, AND KISS HIM AGAIN BECAUSE HOW DARE YOU TO BE SO D U M B OMFG HOW DARE YOU FOR BEING Y O U_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
…_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
AND AT THE SAME TIME YOU ALSO WANT TO WRAP SELIPH IN A NICE BLANKET AND I DON’T KNOW, FEEDING HIM WITH ALL THE FOOD YOU COOK YOURSELF AND THANKING HIM SINCERELY FOR ALWAYS BEING THERE FOR YOU WHEN NOBODY ELSE ISN’T AND BECAUSE THANKS TO HIM YOU ARE ABLE TO TRUST PEOPLE AGAIN AND YOU NEVER KNEW TYPICAL ACTIVITIES CAN BE SO FUN AND LIKE YOU ARE WORTHY OF DIGNITY & RESPECT TOO AND THAT YOU DON’T ACTUALLY HAVE TO ASK_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
Lene, hold on—_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
ALSO, DOES SELIPH HAVE A NICHE KILLER SMILE? OR A VOICE THAT, WHEN DONE RIGHT, YOU IMMEDIATELY THINK THAT OH NO I’M NO LONGER CHASTE, I WOULD SHOW HIM MY ANKLE._

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
… Girl…_

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _And like, perhaps realizing Seliph’s clothes are so unfashionable but like, deep down you don’t actually resent it and you kiiind of curious how his shirt will look on you or something, but like, you don’t oppose to him being shirtless either because all is good and you want to show him another ankle._

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
………_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
And have you ever tried suplexing Seliph flat on his back? And miserably failed in the process? And have him play fighting with you but like, you end up at his mercy as he keeps teasing yet telling you how much he appreciates you and all that and he wears a LEONINE smile that is rather raw and primal but still cute regardless but like, raw and primal and you are thrown in between like, wow it will be nice to kick him in the face but at the same time I fancy this face yes don’t stop being so nice anyway HOW DARE YOU being THIS nice it’s time for him to show his ankles as well I know he got nice abs tho AND THEN…_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
… Leonine? Seliph? ... I-is this still about Seliph, or…_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Leonine? Haha, you must be mistaken, I said Levantine! Levantine people have nice smile, don’t they?_

 **_nunsfighttoo_ ** _  
OH LORD GOD LENE_

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _  
Hnnn? Lana?_

Darn it, she stops replying! This is so unlike Lana! S-so much for sisterhood! Is that because I did not use punctuations properly? Because I typed in capital letters? Good God, Lana, why were you so offended by my conversational-style texts? Are you allergic to bad grammar?! R-regardless, the more I think about it, the more _aggravating_ everything is. Dumb Ares, I’ve got so many thoughts and you keeps making my mind and heart flutter somehow—yet you seem to be interested in killing your poor cousin than actually un-dumb yourself! And why must you be concerned when _I am_ concerned of what you do to Diarmuid?!

Worse, after shoulder-bumping with Altena two times in this very same building the very next day I learned that indeed there is an architecture class being held there! This building is mostly used by liberal arts major, mainly the arts-related classes. So, apparently architecture seniors of all branches just happen to take their advanced designing class in this building—and specifically for Ares, urban design culture! That is why I encounter him often lately, even more frequently than Altena. And how come I didn’t know about this when I’ve taken classes here too?

… Oh, wait. T-that explains why he could get to my class conveniently quick after that campus creeper incident, sigh.

And today I encounter him again. This time he is simply alone while I’m just about to part ways with Larcei, who is heading to her own class as I am to mine! He kind of stops for a moment when he sees me somehow. I smile at him as Larcei mutters a simple “Hey.”—perhaps with an obvious eye-bulging because like me, she did not expect Ares out of all places will be found to be lurking around the arts-related major headquarter. Well, at first I did not either! Moreover, I did not expect him to look _that_ nice in brownish-gray rugged t-shirt with lines of tile motifs and navy blue jeans. There isn’t even anything special there, and of course he still has that pair of steroid-sporty black sneakers as always—but like, I did not know a person could look so nice in typical clothing that he is almost… _human._ Ahem. W-well. Considering this one is an alleged demon and anything…

“I have a test,” he addresses Larcei after nodding to reply her simple ‘hey’.

“Oh. You are pregnant? Congratulations!” Larcei replies with the kind of straight face which rivals Ares’.

“Yes, with poop,” Ares grumbles, tickling Larcei’s sense of humor with his words. “… I don’t like theories.”

“Good luck~! You can do it!” I wink at him as I rub on his arm. Suddenly he clears his throat, awkwardly scratching his head that he tilts his face away from me a little bit. Hnnn?

“… With you being like that, either I’ll excel the test or completely forget everything…” he sighs. “You…”

I pout. But of course! Screw maturity, if my dress gives him sudden influenza, then it is his fault! Finding this one—retro belted midi dress with pink polka dot motif—at eleven dollar is how I define happiness! Hmmm, perhaps lion demons are sensitive to fashionable looks? No wonder he is brooding. He is checking his phone at the moment, and suddenly I get that impish idea again—don’t ask me how and why, if only I could understand my own potato brain. So, I try to seize another chance—

“Try harder, rabbit,” he hums, merely raising a palm before my face to block me. “Oh, an email…”

Darn it, that was a good chance gone fast. He blocked me right before I could punch his nose! Perhaps he is used to having his nose targeted? Then I should try another target. Solar panel… I mean—solar plexus! From this distance and height difference, should be convenient. “Opening—!”

“Closed,” he chuckles, withdrawing his body with a slight diagonal twist in a heartbeat. His reflex seems to kick in because he conveniently positions his dominant leg on the front exactly to protect all the vital organs. It’s like he anticipates people are going to attack him exactly where it pains—no, _endangers_ —and that he has to be ready to pounce first. Hnnn. I know his background, but somehow it is still sad…

“Um…” somehow my hand travels to touch him. And… oh, I didn’t realize I moved unexpectedly like that. Will that startle him? Suddenly I recall how ferocious the look he spared me during our early times getting to know each other. Somehow seeing him happier like that gives me a chance to look back. What my friends said about us getting closer during the soccer matches somehow goes through my mind. Are we? Am I? …. Am I the only one who—

Even when he is preoccupied he managed to be so alert and anticipating, what about now that he is done with his phone? Is it because his so-called opponent is only me? What did he meant, undefeatable? It’s a joke, right? He should stop. Why must he sigh when he said I was undefeatable? Why—

I’m startled. S-see, he moves just so seamlessly to catch my hand like that. I’m anticipating a move like when he played fighting with me, and somehow this makes me nervous a little bit—oh, look, he sighs again. Why? Am I actually bothering him? D-did he want a challenge, but knowing well that he is not supposed to—you know, resist me—he just…

“… Don’t make that face,” he murmurs deeply as if Larcei was not here. You know, probably she isn’t. Are there other people in this corridor at all? I forgot. His eyes are on mine. His hand, too—

“U-um.”

“Did you expect me to hit back? … Such a curious rabbit. Did you not read my reply…?”

Why, that voice, that expression, n-no, don’t— “I-I did. But you—you were—c-confusing.”

“Was I?” his eyes truly hold me hostage now. Truly—“Now that I do this, am I not clear?”

He really holds my hand. So what we experienced during those matches were… real?

Anyway, he holds my hand. Just like what his text says.

… He holds my hand—

He holds my hand—he holds my hand, he holds my hand, he holds my hand, he holds my hand—

“I got this email just now—the school wanted me to take the team for a victory feast,” he chuckles, showing me his phone. Oh, right—t-the email. But he should not be this close because suddenly I can’t read. T-this has to be demon-induced illiteracy, right? I went through my morning classes just fine. “I know the place. Quite close to Master Cakes. I’ve never been there myself, but by the look of it, seems the kids would want some classic yakiniku victory feast.”

“Oh,” I respond. “Honestly, I haven’t even checked any email. But I doubt I received something like that.”

“Why?”

“Ares, I’m just a cheerleader,” finally I’m able to escape his eyes. “I mean—I was. There used to be tight rules when I was in high school, like about how we shouldn’t even engage the players and all that, so usually we have our separate events. Even then sport clubs tended to have more funding, so to budget properly usually we hardly even celebrate anything if it’s not on our own money. Or if one of the girls has rich parents who happen to be the school donors. There’s this unwritten rule I guess, regarding players and cheerleaders, so—!” out of reflex I let out a soft yelp because his index finger stops my lips.

“So, there’s something more urging I need to know.”

“Mmm. W-which is?”

“Like if you could make it?” he simply cocks an eyebrow. “I’m not coming if you are not coming.”

“Well, that’s what he said, huh,” Larcei quips after a long pause.

I shoot her a death stare.

“What?” she shoots me a flat look.

“That’s what I said indeed,” Ares merely smirks at Larcei. “Therefore, Lene…”

“S-seriously?”

“Yes? You coached the girls. I didn’t take them to the final alone, did I?” he replies in a cheeky manner.

“I thought—I mean, I thought, y-you…”

“Hmmm?”

 _Shit_ —son of a—what, lion?—s-stop looking at me like that, stop talking to me like that, st—“Aren’t you allergic to fashion, let alone if the colors are sweet? And you want me? I mean—going with you?”

“How considerate. I’ll be alright,” he nods, patting my head. “And yeses.”

“Yes… es?” how confusing! “Sorry for being nice enough to keep you from dying…”

“I’m acquainted with you and I’m still alive.”

“Huh?”

“Later, rabbit!” he has the gall to wave at me before leaving! Hnnn. Not twice. Not today!

“Hold it, you lion demon!” even Larcei _stares_ when I run to catch up with him as he moves away. I don’t care—I don’t care! You don’t get to appear alluring like that _twice_ at school while the day is still bright. Not today, I said! So, being the more rational one here, I grab him. “You—the audacity! The blondicity!”

“Oh, gods,” Larcei sighs because I truly attempt to tackle him.

He sharply turns around—catching me! “Now I hold,” he whispers straight in my ear. “What’s next…”

“Aaah! Stop being so attractive! S-stop being so cute! Stop being so sweet! Stop being so adorable!”

“Likewise. Do we have a deal…”

“W-what’s wrong with your vocal chords today?! House Bragi does not yield to terrorists!”

“House Nordion does not negotiate with the enemy either, Miss.”

“I see! Then I won’t stop being cute and sweet! I’ll treat you so well you would want to bleed your heart out and wonder if your life is even real at all!” I yell at him. “So you just see, Ares, I’ll make you _kneel_ and _crawl_ for feeling so nice and warm and cared for and—“ … I quickly, quickly slam my hand hard against my mouth. W-what did I… d-did I just… a-aaah, AAAAAAAAAAH!!

“… You will what…?” he, on the other hand, is not backing down. He lingers closer, voice is still deep and rich like before, with his hand gently trying to pry mine off my mouth. “No wonder you’re undefeatable.”

“Mm-hmmm,” I quickly turn away, but he gently catches my shoulders. “N-no. Sobs. Noooo.”

“Why not? Let me hear you more.”

“… Dude…” Larcei appears like she’s nearly choking to death for containing laughter. Her expression is akin to an active volcano farting out lava out of it! Grrrh, where is sisterhood when I need it?! And again, this lion demon really, really says the darndest things innocently with a straight face!

“T-then I take it back! I won’t make treat you so well—errr, only half well! T-three-quarters well?”

“I said House Nordion does not negotiate with enemies. Therefore, rejected.”

“Then what are you doing here, fraternizing with the enemy? You have test, lion demon,” I stick my tongue at him. Last resort, alright? Otherwise my face would have like… _molten_ because I’m blushing so, so madly that my cheeks feel hotter than boiling. T-they must be. And my voice is rather meek too, I never meant to appear _this_ demure! Aaaah, Ares and his pheromones—

… I mean—

“Right, right. See you again in the evening…”

“Feh, only if you stop being charming.”

“What?”

“C-class. Test!” without any hesitation I drag him with me while Larcei can only follow—too stunned to do anything else, let alone stopping me! “Same class like when we sent Coirpre to school, right?”

“Ah. You remember?”

“What? How dare you implying I remember! I’m perceptive, you know, so it’s not hard to predict where you are heading to, considering most of my classes take place here! Actually, you are the stranger here, don’t you think so~? Of course I notice when something is a bit different!”

“I see. Thank you for remembering.”

“Goshdangit, no—alright, if I do, what of it? Aaah, Ares!!” without any hesitation I tear his classroom’s door, shoving him inside. J-just my luck, dozen pairs of eyes give me a collective Look! Aaah, why didn’t anyone warn me that classes filled by college seniors are akin to a wolf’s den? And Altena is there too!

“Hello, buttercup,” Altena smiles when Ares enters. N-no, she does not. She _GRINS!_ “Interesting noises…”

“Good morning, Miss Altena Njorun Claus,” Ares _bows_ at her. “Now perish.”

Altena _cackles_ while I want to die! Hnnnh! G-gone are my hopes and dreams to be immortalized as a cute sophomore as those half-dead test-benchpressed college seniors look at me in _dread_ as I huff, slamming Ares by pressing on his shoulders so he sits. “Hnnnh! There! Good luck and good bye!”

“Alright and thank you.”

“Don’t smirk after I’m gone! Give me your paw, meow—I mean—pinky finger!”

“Pinky promise? How c—”

“O-oh, gods, I’m going to be late for my own class! S-see you again in the afternoon!” cutting him right away I look down on my watch. Right, holy sheep, I’ve been stalling here that I nearly forgot I’m supposed to have my own class too. Outside, a waiting Larcei gives me a sympathetic look.

“There, there,” she says, even before I even manage to say anything. “Lion-taming is not an easy task.”

“S-sobs. Why am I so dumb,” I wail on her shoulders. “H-he must think I am.”

“Well, for starters, he’s also dumb. So he shouldn’t be the one complaining,” Larcei merely chuckles when I pout. “And considering his eyes shone when talking to you, I doubt he even minded at all. Come on, come on~! Let’s head to our classes! Being in love is something, but studying is still important~!” she lightly slaps my back, taking me in the crook of her arm that we begin walking.

Hnnn? What? W-what is she talking about? And what is this about shining eyes and being in love?!

* * *

 

Regardless of all the… errr, jokes and whatnot, everything goes smoothly as planned. Ares truly waits on me outside my classroom, giving me his typical faint smile the moment I see him as I step out. His presence is still surprising people, sadly—and he leans against the wall, his hands are in his pockets as if saying he really does not mean to intimidate anyone. Ah, is it still like that for him? I’m sad…

“Done?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah~!” the moment I begin to turn around walking he does what he typically does each time I conveniently drag him anywhere—obediently following me from behind! I can still sense people’s stares harboring on us, and it seems they are pretty intense this time that he reflexively glances around. Come to think of it, Ares is sharp. Impossible he doesn’t know people are looking at him or whispering behind his back. Hnnn, I have to do something, so I casually grab his arm. “Actually, this time’s kinesiology class got me thinking. Have you ever noticed the way animals pose when threatened? If you take a closer look, it’s like they are making martial arts moves. You know, like, when a cat does this but with a paw…” I hold up my hand to show him—one fist positioned before my eyes with another hand parked at the side.

“… Hmmm.”

“Ah, you are laughing!”

“I can’t tell you and this hypothetical cat apart because you are so determined like that,” his pleasant chuckles fly out seamlessly. "Martial art stances are inspired from animal stances, so you are right.”

“Interesting~! So I am right, hnnn?” of course I have to poke him insolently as always.

“Yeah. More visible in kungfu, though,” he still chuckles. “Which is something I don’t do.”

“But you are Kungfu Mufasa,” somehow I want to giggle too, recalling our first encounters. Ah, suddenly I feel a bit melancholic. How different things are now, and not even I could picture easily laughing with the so-called Jugdral U’s feared Black Knight like this. Not only that, said Black Knight also laughs… “You know, before meeting you I thought every martial art is just kungfu.” That line seems to tickle him a lot that there is an erupting laughter I catch from his side! But I don’t have time to continue messing with him because those same voices which previously whispered behind our backs return.

“Is that so? You gave me too much credit.”

“H-he’s smiling… the Black Knight can laugh without implying a fight?!”

That again! Judging from the smileys he used on Instagram when he definitely meant menace, I can see why they are shocked. But like… in the end of the day, Ares is just a Jugdral-U student like everyone else here. I mean… what is supposed to be surprising at all? Of course he can laugh and smile! Why, even if he indeed is a demon, it’s not like he can’t have his preferences, sigh.

I was just about to take him from there so he does not have to hear anymore condescending comments. What is he supposed to do then, exiling himself completely? It’s not like people will stop talking even if he removes himself like that—which is, ironically, what he has been doing so far! But unexpected to me he turns around, approaching those gossiping folks. “… Hey. You dropped your wallet,” he hands a little rectangle black-something to one of them. “Be careful.”

His action practically floors everyone involved including the spectators like me. Those gossiping folks can only stare until the one losing his wallet mumbles gratitude, but by then Ares being Ares only shrugs, turning away to catch up with me waiting on him. He does not say anything even until we get to Jugdral-U’s southern parking lot where he stashes Mystletainn. And still, as always he gives his leather jacket to me, patiently waits on me fixing my clothes as he straddles over the motorbike.

Hnnn. For some reason, I’m feeling a bit melancholic. I’m glad that more and more he seems to be comfortable. Like… he is slowly reclaiming his own personhood, and with it, a space with everyone else. At the same time there is sadness somehow because God, how long has he been like this—feeling like he shouldn’t exist under the same sky of other people? That he has to learn to… laugh again?

Why, I’m brooding. Now that Ares is in such good mood, I don’t want to ruin it. Hehe, better not say anything I guess~ let the lion feel good too that he will just agree with me that he’s a cat not a cub~!

And Ares is right—the grill house is located around three blocks away from Master Cakes. So it’s not the neighboring-level kind of near, but still pretty easily reachable if the person is familiar with the location. T-the problem is, I don’t! Sigh. I only go around here mostly for Master Cakes. And perhaps eying one of those studios around this high-end skyscraper jungle as my next job if night clubs are just too much or even borderline abusive for the time being like that. This part of the city does have that high-end and luxurious feeling about it, considering those residing there are often the wealthiest members of society. But… at the same time it does not have that lawless feeling the way Yied has.

Ares stops Mystletainn when we get to a building. Wew, it looks rather grand. Like this entire floor truly is for the restaurant only, and… laugh at me if you must, but based on experiences, usually the colder the air conditioner is, the more luxurious the place is, you know?

“I’ll ask the guard. Would you come with me? Feels wrong, leaving you alone by the road like that,” he says. “I’ve never been here myself. It should be more convenient to explore this place together.”

“I understand. Your mom makes godly meals, why would you eat anywhere else?” I tail behind.

The corner of his mouth twitches upon hearing that. “So that’s why Coirpre rarely snacks outside too.”

“Cheeky,” I pinch his arm. B-but… seriously? He thinks I cook well? Why, that makes me shy somehow. But he simply chuckles regardless, and he goes to ask a nearby security guard about the restaurant, inquiring if anyone ever reserved a place or something—specifically if it is a team of eighteen or so kids! After that he secures a parking spot at the basement, asking me to come with him.

“Then why did you need to ask a security guard when you are already one yourself?”

“Cheeky as well,” again, he musters that endearing small smile. “I’d call that being responsible, though.”

“If you think I’m also cheeky, then perhaps you need to pinch my arm so we are even,” I blurt out mindlessly. W-where did that sudden odd, _brazen_ courage come from? Darn it, potato brain!

“Hmmm. I don’t pinch…”

“Too bad. I thought you were a lion, turns out just a cat indeed.”

“… There.”

“Eeeeh?”

“What?”

“Y-you…” I yank his mullet. God, for a moment I thought my heart would stop beating! He said that oh-so conveniently without even blinking or batting an eye!

“I warned you to be careful of what you wished for, rabbit,” he musters a devilish-sounding chuckle, like it comes from the depth of his chest somewhere as his lips curve to form that familiar leonine smirk again. G-Gods, somehow I can’t even look at him if he is like that. But at the same time there is this urge to… t-to duel his wits? W-wits? Is that… did he mean to be witty? Is he…

… Haha, impossible. He can’t be _flirting_ with me, can he? If anything it’s me that is already on the verge of running out of ideas to tell him that yes, yes, he is nice, yes, he is actually diabetes-level sweet in his own way even though it doesn’t show on the surface, and yes, that face is handsome, and that body is fine too, which is a bonus. Walking behind him gives me a sly chance to contemplate on him. True that physically, he is alluring. I mean—I’m not going to deny that… anymore. I failed when I tried, anyway…

 _My, my, I tried to hold you back but you were stronger_  
_Oh yeah, and now it seems my only chance is giving up the fight_  
_And how could I ever refuse, I feel like I win when I lose?_

… S-sigh. But that isn’t just him looking nice in the most literal sense possible. He’s just—he’s just—wait a second, what is this oldie again? Wew, the perks of a restaurant located at a fancy region. Perhaps their typical customers are those rich dads and uncles? How did the Thracia Academy even manage to place a reservation here again? … Now even the song is laughing at me.

“Uhhh. Ares, I have a question…”

“Ask me.”

_Are you flirting with me because you are a demon and I never thought demons could flirt but then again I didn’t know a demon could be sweet while also looking nice, on the other hand I’m glad that you truly are a nice guy but this scares me so because if you are this nice then it means you are a demon—_

“D-do you like humans?”

“No,” he responds firmly. “I’m not even sociable to begin with.”

“I-I see,” I bite my lips. See, he does not! He can’t be liking me then. If only he would stop being so nice and cute, then it would be easier not to… not to let my hope fly high, r-right? … Oh, curses. Suddenly I get concerned like this. Why am I thinking so much? His answers should not be affecting me like this, right? I keep saying I shouldn’t let what people think of me hinders me from living my life, and yet—

“I like animals better,” he blurts out as we get into the elevator from the basement. “Although it’s unfair because you can definitely say I’m not even the friendliest guy to be around.”

“You know, come to think of it, animals are indeed better than humans,” chuckling a little I step inside as he clears the way for me. “They are cute and make a trusted companion because you know they are not scheming. And if you are nice, they are nice! Kind of relieving somehow, don’t you think~?”

He hums, pressing a button. “Then what is your favorite animal?”

The elevator begins to move, giving that smooth feeling as it leaves the ground. We are alone here, perhaps with a CCTV and the mirror which forms the elevator’s main wall. The button to the fifth floor is lighted up, which I presume to be where the grill house is located. Strangely my heart begins to beat faster even though we are technically alone in just for seconds… “What is yours?” finally I speak out. “I imagine it has to be something cool like you? Somehow usually guys like big animals often.”

“Like me?”

O-oh, crap! “… Uh. W-well. Eh… y-you are laughing again…” I pout. “What’s wrong with liking lion cubs?”

“You like… lion cubs?”

“They are cute, you know?” I stick my tongue at him.

“But so are rabbits.”

“Y-you like rabbits?”

“There is this certain comfort only smaller animals can bring. Besides, they make nice cuddling partners.”

“You are smirking!”

“Hmmm?”

“That demonic face only makes everything more confusing,” huffing, I yank his mullet. “Considering you are of this height, don’t you want a bigger animal to cuddle with?”

Suddenly he catches my hand! There are some _fine_ seconds of silence as his eyes—harbor into mine. R-right, he isn’t merely looking at me anymore, but rather, there he is, somehow looking rather serious as if those sharp eyes already sign a statement before he manages to say anything. “… No,” he says. “And I like rabbit.”

“Oh. Hnnn. Don’t need to be so serious,” I stick my tongue at him. Hmmm? Rabbit? He’s not human. But then again this is also the same can’t-spell guy who named his Instagram account @ _anblacknight_.

“You said I was confusing,” he retorts. “… So, I take that you like… lion cub?”

“Hnnn? Why, Ares, sure, lion cubs are cute~! Didn’t I say?”

“… Plural, huh…”

“Of course? My, you really can’t spell.”

The elevator finally reaches the floor we are heading to, and I really, really have to remind myself not to stomp on him because he musters that smirk again after pulling me back before I trip on my own shoes. S-sigh. Why is it so easy to be a zombie when I’m only alone with him? That face is cursed. We trace the corridors, passing several people in the process. Wow, they are all neatly dressed, suited up and all…

“Come on,” he gently slips his fingers against mine. “You are with me. They won’t kick you out.”

“Ah…” just now we talked about favorite animals and how comforting they must be. T-then, perhaps… since a lion is technically a big cat with a streak of being courageous with leadership ability, perhaps… lion, too, can give that feeling of assurance in needed times? Lion? Technically, it has to be plural, right?

But if it is supposed to be right, then why doesn’t it _feel_ right? Lion, singular lion!

S-sigh. I probably should take my potato brain on a vacation soon. Pamper myself and whatnot, or see a medium to have myself exorcised. Perhaps there’s only so much one can take after interacting with lion demons often. Perhaps I should stop gazing at my phone screen every so often each time Ares and I exchange messages or text. Perhaps I should stop viewing his profile to look at his selfies there—

… Aaaah!! R-right, I have been doing that for months now, good Lord. Let’s hope the grill house can restore my… errr, what, de-potato my brain? Yeah, let’s hope grilled meats have exorcist power!

Speaking of grill house, we are finally here! The place is pretty fancy, and this time it seems Ares takes turn feeling a bit out of place because he’s in simple t-shirt while other male customers at least wear buttoned shirts. Shaking my head with a smile, I latch my fingers into his to give him the same reassurance he did me prior. That gesture startles him a little that he glances at me, but he smiles back, mouthing a simple, tender “Thank you,” as he follows me stepping inside.

“Hello, welcome! Table for two?” a waiter in uniform quickly welcomes us the moment we arrive. Nice, nice aromatic smell of everything good being grilled and cooked inside really pleases my nostrils. There is a standing sign that reads as _Fjalar BBQ_ instead of hanging on the wall with a yellow lantern effect which makes everything appears solemn, as if saying this totally isn’t a restaurant commonly frequented by students like us. Not only that, even the décor is elegant than fun-whatsoever!

“Thracian Academy,” Ares answers on behalf of us. The waiter wastes no time ushering us to another section of the restaurant, separated from the tables and buffets. Wow, somehow I feel special. As in you go somewhere and the concierge simply nods, understandingly taking you to a secluded area like that. Perhaps because Ares’ tone is firm? Either way, the moment we get to the pointed section, I understand why the school made a reservation here. This section where we are supposed to exudes more private atmosphere because seats are divided like separated complexes with charcoal grill panels on each table.

Oh, wow—they nicely arranged the seating for us! They joined several tables to form a long communal one with several grills for us to use. The chairs are already prepared too, so this truly feels like a picnic with a bunch of kids at a high-end restaurant! The best part is that they also moved the separators so that this long table, which they have set to be near the wall just right at the corner, will not disturb other diners in case the kids get chattery. But hey, they are kids. And we are eating together to celebrate our victory, not going to a funeral! The other diners can be brooding for all I care!

“Aaah, Coach N!” a familiar face peeks from the crowd. Oh, good, my Coirpre is there. Finally, a familiar face that I know! On the other hand—oh, good, Ares is the sibling now instead of me? Hnnn.

“Hi, Coirpre, I’m your sister,” I pout at him.

“Hi, sister,” Coirpre grins. “Sorry~! I’m just so happy to see Coach N again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ares responds in a brotherly manner. He takes a step forward like ushering me to the table; a gesture I truly did not expect because—because… I really don’t think at this day and age people are _that_ committed to chair-pulling like that, you know? True that he did something similar at Tirnanog, true that when we were still coaching Thracian kids he would give up his own seat by allocating the teacher’s desk for me while he stood. But here too? And now, with everyone else?

“Uh—“

“Oh,” he glances down. R-right, we are still holding hands! Aaa—

“Ummm. After you!” I stretch my arm awkwardly.

“I was about to say the same thing,” he scratches his head. “Eh—“

Coirpre truly, truly has to _grin_ at time like this, huh? My little brother folds his arms, slowly but sure distancing himself from us as if knowing that I secretly wish I could whoop his ass. “You know that this wouldn’t even be a problem if you and Coach N would stop exchanging germs by holding hands like that.”

“Exchanging germs?! I didn’t even kiss him!”

“That is true. Why didn’t she?”

“What?!”

“What?” he merely cocks an eyebrow.

“Dumb kitty!” I yank his mullet until he winces.

“But I was just saying…”

“Don’t!”

“Alright…”

“Wait, w-wait!” suddenly Coirpre panics and fidgets. “Exchanging germs mean kissing? Damn Karin, I thought it simply means interacting with a person whose hands are dirty.”

“Dirty? Mine? That is absurd, I never killed anyone so far… I think.”

“W-what’s with the addendum?” ooh, my God, t-this dumb big cat! “Coirpre, I’ll _probably_ tell you more later at home. Meanwhile, where is Karin so I can kill her? And where are the others?”

“Your sister is right. I always wash cleanly after bathroom, anyway,” this dumb nerd deadpans again. “Besides, if I were to touch her, I’d make sure everything feels good.”

“Ares!!”

“What?—Oof,” he grimaces now that my fist catches his nose. “… Formidable...”

Now that the matter of germs-trading subsides, I get to sit with the kids! Slow but sure the kids emerge from… errr, the dark side, the black hole, whatever—where were they again, anyway?!—and begin to take their seats. The physical education teacher shows up later, apparently leaving the table for a moment to settle with the agreed orders including down payment and everything, concluding the reservation made by the school. And it seems this teacher totally did not expect the kids to wander on their own, because he too, reassured me that he told them not to leave until he got back. Haha, tough luck, teacher, didn’t you realize that twelve year-olds are basically a bunch of sheep?

“Hello there, Nordion,” the teacher waves, looking rather sheepish when he gets back. “God, I’ve never taken an army of children like this before. How did you and Coach Bragi do it, with the matches?”

Y-you… shouldn’t this be your responsibility… s-sigh. “Oh, we like Coach N,” Karin, harbinger of doom and misinformation, strolls in, followed by the girls and a couple more other soccer kids. “A cool dad gets more following, especially if the mom is cool too.”

“Cool… dad?” he looks at Karin _dreadfully_.

“Hehehe~ don’t think of it too much, dumb kitty. Let’s get seated?” I pat his paw—hand.

“After you.” Uh-oh, there is definitely that devilish leonine smirk reigning on his face now. I-I sense revenge. A _brutal_ revenge. W-why, suddenly I want to gulp. What is his next maneuver? What will he do? How will he strike back? But this brazenly cute demon simply nods. Um—there is not like… gum sticking on the chair, right? H-how childish. It’s just a dumb cat. What can he do anyway? Boop him and he’ll purr… right? Smiling awkwardly I move forward as he pulls a chair. Nothing happens! Meh, what is he doing, testing a new smirk? And I thought only nuclear weapons need testing.

“Thanks,” I shoot him a sweet smile on purpose. Take down the lion at his own game!

He nods in a courteous manner—too courteous to be courteous in the first place. Suspicious. Suspicious beyond belief! He retreats to his own chair, which faces mine. However… ah, here we go, that raw leonine smirk again. S-so what? I fear no feline, darn it! “Anything for the mother of my children.”

… Goddarnit, I should have seen that coming…

“Sorry to disappoint you, cool dad, because Coirpre is my brother!” I stick my tongue at him. What will you do now? Since when are you even witty? Aaah!

“Is that so? How relieving. There’s a slot for another child then…”

Good God! “Ares!!” shit, was that an ippon?

“C-Coach N, she’s blushing mad!”

“We haven’t started grilling yet—are you… are you feeling unwell, Coach Bragi?”

“T-this is because of you, hnnn!”

“I can assume the responsibility.”

“Aaah, shut up!”

“Hmmm?”

“N-no, not like that either!”

“But you want me quiet.”

“I said shut up, not wanting you quiet!”

“So you want me loud?”

“Dear gods,” the teacher clasp his hands. “Nordion!”

“Right, right. I got carried away,” the lion demon even has the gall to smile at me! Well, after sheepishly sparing a total apologetic look at the kids, though—whom by then can only stare in their seats, watching with their mouths agape. G-God, today everyone got a taste of a lion’s revenge. W-what in the world of lionization, the kids picked the wrong target… I’m sure after this every mischievous soul wanting to mess with him would be thinking twice, thrice, to even decide trying. Come to think of it, there wouldn’t be a next time, huh… I mean… we are here because… because we are celebrating our victory. The match season ends, and we won’t be back to the school like before. Ah, this melancholic feeling…

I contain my emotions in my throat because waiters begin to approach us with trays. Various meat cuts are being brought before us as small bowls containing different kind of sauces follow. The girls fill in the seats around me while Coirpre is glued to Ares. The teacher takes a near-end seat to supervise the kids who are seated rather far from us. We really don’t need to wait long because ever-ready waiters complete their tasks by swiftly taking out the meat cuts for us—they start turning on the grills, poking the charcoal and woods inside while instructing the kids on how to use them. We get plates too which they brought out with the meat, along with cutleries and even chopsticks.

But it’s not until waiters disperse because they have taken out everything we will need that the teacher kicks his heels off the chair. Standing, he casually clinks his glass, making everyone to stop chattering. He smiles, approaching us—I mean, around the center where Ares and I sit facing each other. “I’d like to congratulate everyone for making it to the final and even winning the season,” he starts, voice clear and smooth that it’s almost like he pats us one by one on the back. “The matches were rough, your opponents were fierce, but you managed to stand victorious. I hope everyone carve this moment in their minds—do not lose that feeling and determination you had, and use it to conquer mountain every mountain you shall encounter during your studies—and life, perhaps.”

“Like math,” Sara chirps innocently with her faint voice as always. That succeeded reducing the sentimentality a little bit—not only that the teacher smiles wider, the kids begin to chuckle too. Somehow I feel so glad. Sara gets everyone’s attention… so not only that we are victorious in the most literal definition possible, it’s almost like the kids returned from the battlefield as a new person…

“And I’d like to thank you on behalf of everyone here,” the teacher goes on, raising his glass. “Nordion?”

Ares pauses. It’s like he really, really is surprised that the purpose of this early dinner is to celebrate him along with the players! “… I was just doing my job,” he mutters. “The kids fought well.”

“Come on, Coach N! If not because of you, we wouldn’t make it!” Coirpre remarks sullenly. “See, ‘Teach—I told you, it’s harder to make him accept compliments than playing against Agustria.”

“I know it then—let’s just tell him since Coach N seems to be honestly confused,” Karin smirks, suddenly standing up. “Coach Nordion! Thank you for never making us girls feel like we aren’t as worthy!”

Ares truly, truly gapes now. But Karin casually returns to her seat, and unexpectedly … Seats are moved because kids take turn with each other to pay respect to Ares! Smiles and laughter are exchanged as the kids serenade each other’s short speech with a clap, while Ares just… watches.

“Thank you for always answering questions,” Tinny starts.

“Thank you for never abandoning anyone,” Ced grins. “Anyway, my knee is fully healed now!”

“Oh, good…” Ares scratches his head.

“Thank you for scolding me,” one of the kids whom I recognize as a striker who bullied Coirpre follows suit, sheepish but determined. “Back then you told me that a bully is not an ace. Thank you.”

“Thank you for never simply telling me to man up,” a substitute player takes turn after him.

“You never yell,” the goalkeeper grins. “Thank you for reminding us of what needs doing.”

“Thank you for saying the boys aren’t automatically better just for being boys,” Miranda chuckles. And just like that, one by one the kids tell him what they truly think of him. Oh, my, I feel so much too. They talk about how fun it was to train under him, because despite his unconventional methods, exactly because they didn’t know what he would bring onto the table for the next day that, things were always exciting and that to some extent he made them keep an open mind. They thank him for always being there with everyone else—to demand them working hard but setting example as the first one to arrive and the last to leave after making sure the kids are alright. They thank him for being attentive even though some things may come off strict. They thank him for the breathing technique, they thank him for building up a sense of cohesive comradeship based on real friendship and that there is no difference between main team and substitute players. They thank him for… always being there…

Ares still looks at everyone in disbelief, like only then he begins to truly, truly process that the whole squad sincerely praises him, and not just that—for the kids to _adore_ him. “… This is so unexpected,” he murmurs with a low, husky voice like he is so close to choke back… tears.

When the kids are done taking turn, Coirpre clears his throat, standing up. “This is a bit personal,” he mutters. “Thank you for giving me a chance,” his voice croaks. “T-thank you for believing in me—“ he wants to say more, but the awkwardness makes him trip on his shoes. Ares pulls him back before he smacks a plate on the table, prompting Coirpre to point at him. “L-like that. You are always like that,” he says. “Thank you for saving me from despair! I’d be better—w-waaah!” suddenly he dives his face into Ares’ shirt, surprising the latter even more.

“… Alright, I get it now, junior rabbit,” Ares slings his arm around Coirpre. “It’s alright. It really is.”

I shake my head. This dumb big cat, this nerdy lion cub—really, Ares, why do you have to feel like… like you are nothing but a total nuisance for everyone else? This saddens me. How long has it been since you felt this way? What did they tell you, how did they make you feel? God, I hate them for making you suffer… so I stand; a gesture which surprises him the most. Again, his eyes are all on me, but rather than that scanning sharp stare he typically does when alerted, this one looks so… innocent. Like so, so, pure and curious, akin to a child being exposed to a wonder for the first time. Black Knight what again…

“Dear Ares,” I start, smiling at him. “Thank you for being attentive to the girls. It’s nice working with you because not only you know what you are doing, you also know what _we_ are trying to do.”

Just then I feel a gentle touch from under the table. He tugs on me—I’m not facing him right now so I don’t know if he has certain expression and whatnot, but something I can be sure of is that he seems to be embarrassed. Haha, why, somehow I picture Little Ares doing this to his mother too when she started talking about his achievements to other moms! Hehehe~ if that is the case…

“It’s fascinating to watch you training…” that touch feels more intense as if he’s trying to tell me that I’d better not be joining the club by complimenting him. “… T-the kids, I mean—“ I quickly follow-up. I mean—I mean it is fascinating to watch him train… s-sigh, alright, alright, the most important part is that he doesn’t know, right?! Hnnn! “You acknowledge people’s talents and never make us feel like we are not part of the team, as important as your players, main and substitute alike. So, thank you for being so kind. And most importantly, thank you for being you!”

W-wew, that one gets more applause compared to the others! I feel so shy somehow, especially when meeting Ares’ eyes when I reach my seat back. There’s certain shade of crimson emerging on his bashful expression, but his eyes—twinkle—that I’m pretty sure they are smiling somehow… h-hopefully for the better not because he is laughing at me… “I’ll get you later for that,” he mumbles, making me almost gasp out of reflex. However his expression remains tender instead of the mischievous, war drum-pounding like what he had prior, resulting in the leonine revenge with those quips.

J-just then he stands. T-this fast? Ah, Ares, I’m not ready!

… R-ready… for what, again—being praised back? I don’t think he would, this is his party, after all.

“I sincerely thank the Thracian Academy for having me,” he starts his speech. “What started as helping a cousin turned out to be one of the best moments in my life. Being the only child in my family, having sudden dozen younger brothers is fascinating.” That line fish a small smile out of everyone, including me. True that he appeared awkward at first. But as time went on, he proved himself to be… doting. I’m sure Jugdral-U folks would be surprised if they saw it! “I don’t normally do these all…” he runs his thumb against his nose. “… And perhaps not everyday you need to adapt to unconventional methods. But the kids here are the best a coach can ask for—let alone a newbie too, like me. So let me repeat what Coirpre there perfectly summed up—thank you very much, it’s an honor to be trusted. I hope you carry that fire to the next season even though I’m no longer training you.”

The atmosphere is solemn and melancholic! It seems only then that the realization sinks in—it truly ends here, and after this Ares will not come back to do those drillings with the kids as always. And I wouldn’t, either. The kids look at him. I can see Miranda blowing against tissue plies she takes, making a rather loud snorting sound to which she quickly apologizes. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I-I’m just…”

“And I couldn’t do this alone,” Ares’ voice startles us. “So it’s just fitting for me to honor the strong lady who lent her fortitude to me and the entire team. Lene—Coach Bragi, what are we without you?”

T-that’s. H-huh, Ares, takes my hand, patting it before everyone’s naked eyes! The teacher clasps his hands again, perhaps trying to neutralize the sudden melancholia which looms over everyone. He says a thing or two more about the season, about the matches, but frankly at this point I’ve stopped listening because… b-because Ares is looking at me. And God, everything he said was just…

Drinks are being poured as meat cuts are laid on the grill. We get cola pitchers while the teacher got himself some errr, nice-looking foaming craft beer there. S-sigh. Of course I have drunk before, but technically I’m still nineteen, so like… I have to be good and all that in public I suppose~! Hnnn. Waiters are still going back and forth to bring stuff for us, and this time I really feel like giggling because… heheheee, cool dad is busy helping his kids grilling, huh? Or perhaps it’s just the kids suddenly feeling attached to Ares because of the atmosphere—they ask him to help them with the grill!

“Drink with me, Nordion,” the teacher strolls closer to where we sit, chuckling because Ares is no longer sitting idly there—at least he’s been helping five kids with the grill while again, pulling Coirpre by grabbing his collar for getting too close to the grill! “Here you go. This concludes everything.”

Ares pauses for a moment, looking at the kids and… me. I don’t know why, but…

A gentle faint smile reigns on his face as he moves to grab a bottle near him. “Sir,” he says, raising the bottle, casually toasting it with the teacher. The teacher grins, and they take the drink together at the same time, with Ares looking pleased and happy that he ends it with another pleasant sigh. He may not say much—especially after being pretty open with his… heartfelt speeches.

“That was good,” the teacher chuckles too, waving again, retreating to his own seat and helping the kids with their grill.

“… No, wait,” suddenly Ares speaks again, putting down his bottle. Grabbing glasses on the table, he pours the cola from one of the big pitchers waiters have brought for us. Three glasses containing cola is ready to consume in a heartbeat, and like that, his eyes land on me again. “Toast?”

“Again?” the teacher strolls back.

“Yeah. With Coach Bragi, Sir?”

… Oh… m-my. See, he is always… always—with the kids, with Coirpre, and then… and then with me…

Why, I’ve never expected that cola could taste _this_ good. The teacher nods understandingly, smiling and holds up the glass at me. I return the smile, holding it at him too, sparing a nod at Ares. The three of us drink the cola and the teacher finally retreats to his own seat, and the merry grilling ensues. There is so much laughter and smile here that I almost cry too. This feels nice. Looking at him getting awkward but well-meaning while being surrounded by kids like that is, admittedly, endearing. I contain my giggles softly under my palm somehow as he rushes to Ced who is mindlessly about to reach a grilled meat piece straight off the stove merely with chopstick instead of a pincher. He quickly turns around upon hearing Karin’s squeal, grabbing Sara’s long silvery wavy hair because the girl is so fascinated with everything that she literally brings her face too close to the grill. Coirpre fumes and musters a devilish laughter as he stuns the crowd for grilling like a pro!

“You barbarians! This is how you make food!” he proudly announces, flipping the meat cuts, parting the ones that are done over Tinny’s plate. “See, you don’t have to flip them every so often! Need them nice and juicy!”

“Wow, you are a pro,” Miranda beams at him.

“Sure! My sister cooks and I help. As Coach N says, men help, boys are savages.”

“I said boys only ate.”

“Same thing!”

“… You got a point,” Ares snorts where he sits. “And why is this sister not eating?” he casually rolls some cuts into my plate. “Don’t underestimate my power, I’m the son of Lionheart Kitchen’s owner.”

That really triggers the rival mode in me somehow. And it’s not like his line escaped me, either—he can now casually says he is related to Lionheart Kitchen. Previously, it’s almost like he’s dying for other people not to know that he is a Nordion. So with a flicker of fire in my eyes, I put more meat cuts on the grill before me. “And I’m my own kitchen warrior. _Son_ of a kitchen god has nothing to compare~!”

“Dame Rabbit, I propose a duel.”

“You will lose, Sir Lion.”

“Too early to say that,” he flips two more meat cuts, rolling them onto my plate when they still sizzle. “These are so tender, I’ve been wanting you to have them.”

“Likewise,” my pincher makes a quick move to swoop some cuts into his plate. “Look, I got a tongue here too. With that spicy sauce, I’m sure it will be great in your mouth.”

“How bold.”

“Shut up your face, just eat or you miss the best part!”

“Sure. And which?”

“God,” huffing, I shoot him a murderous look with a sweet smile. Well, before meeting this demon I didn’t even know you could threaten to murder another person in cold blood while also smiling sweetly like that! Why, sulking much just because we keep teasing him as a dad who herds dozen kids to BBQ? Not a cat, he said; yet there he is, behaving like one again and again. Sigh! “Ares,” I pinch his carpal tunnel area as my other hand swiftly moves to yank his mullet. “Eat the damn food.”

“… Understood,” he grimaces. “You are so enthusiastic, I couldn’t help myself,” he takes a meat piece with his chopstick, bringing it close to my face. “Here you go. Say ah…?”

Oh, God. I can’t believe this is happening! He truly is feeding me! And I don’t know why but… but I actually like it? O-oh God. “Mmm. Yes. You seared that perfectly!” I casually hammer my foot against his from under the table when he purposefully musters a smug smirk. “If you want to fight, then yes!” taking turn to laugh I quickly take my own plate with the meat cuts I’ve glazed in hot sauce before. “Heeere you go~! Open up?”

“Coach N, you are like a kid!” Sara giggles. “Say ah! Look, a plane!”

Heheheee, Ares truly is red-faced now! You started it, you lion demon, now reap what you sow! I share all the giggles and laughter with the rest of the kids, who somehow enthusiastically take turn feeding him instead. He sits totally appalled and helpless, shooting a pleading look at me, but I merely flash the most devilish grin I can muster that he holds up his hands, surrendering. It does not take long until all the meat cuts are cooked and eaten. It really feels nice. It _is_ nice. Looking how comfortable the kids are with him, and how he, despite still being all awkward and behaving like only alleged human that he is, tries his best to check on what the kids made so far. And every plate he checks means a smirking kid who enthusiastically shoves a cut or _four_ into his mouth. Haha, he is so endearing like that!

… Although admittedly, as the time wears down the merry atmosphere changes into a bittersweet moment because as the kids begin to take selfies and group photos, the realization only feels stronger and stronger that… that the whole coaching thing truly has come to a close. And s-somehow I get teary-eyed too. My girls have been taking tons of photos with me, occasionally dragging Ares to pose with us. Even the soccer boys too want to snap pictures with me! I’m so happy that my girls and the soccer boys finally have that cohesive friendship without ‘Why are you here?!’ question like the tensed situation prior, but at the same time…

“C-Coach N?” one of the striker kids approaches hesitantly. “I was wondering—are you on Instagram?”

“Call me by name. Since today forward, I’m no longer your coach,” Ares pats his head. “And I am, but I’d like you not to add me because I am still an adult regardless of what I put there or not.”

“Nooo,” the kid squeaks. “You’ll always be our Coach N.”

I second that in discreet as my eyes begin to fog as well. Why now? I’ve always been the one telling Coirpre that a coach is a coach, only that this coach also happens to be my friend. But now the sadness gets to me too somehow. I can’t believe ‘Coach Nordion’ has grown on me too. And it takes this long for me to realize such a thing? Just… j-just the way I realized that he is just… so nice and fun to be around. That I’ve been acquainted with him that it would feel weird if suddenly he was to float away from my life. N-no. No…

“I’m not going anywhere, so you can email me. Here you go…” I can faintly hear Ares dictating his email to that kid. “… There. If you have a question about sports, feel free to write me.”

“Um,” suddenly Ced chimes in. “What if… what if it’s not about sports?”

Ares looks around. The kids are encircling him, following Ced. Miranda seems to be at her limit while Sara suddenly drowns herself in my hug. I catch Ced whispering to Coirpre how lucky he is having me as a sister, and that means double luck because since Ares is my friend, chances are he can see Ares as often as I get to have him around me too. He exhales deeply, and I thought—I thought he’d resent it. But… “That is fine as well, Ced,” he smiles. “Keep in mind I don’t always know everything, though.”

“Gotcha,” Ced balls his fist.

“Will you answer my questions about kicking again?” Miranda sniffs.

“Coach N sure will, because he is…” Sara chirps, earning instant wary look from Ares. But before Ares gets to signal her to not bring his karate background into the conversation, the girl smiles—so, so sweetly that stuns everyone else. “… Because Coach N is nice!”

“… I see,” Ares whispers, smiling ever so, so faintly that I feel like tackling him into a tight hug. It truly ends now. I-it truly does. Darn it, I feel like crying somehow. N-no—

“Is everyone done?” the teacher kindly asks, breaking the wallowing melancholia which looms over us all. “Come on. Let’s say goodbye with the coaches and let us return to the school. Come on, kids.”

Nobody says anything. Everyone quietly walks into the elevator, and even Ares folds his arms looking pensive. The dinging sound the elevator makes when we get back to the lobby suddenly feels louder than usual. We part ways with the kids, who still need to return to the school, anyway. I hug my girls longer, tighter—feeling Miranda’s tears wetting my collar while Sara envelopes my waist with her arms. Tinny kisses my cheek, and Karin tries hard to be bubbly that I decide to drag her into my embrace with the others as well. The teacher exchanges a warm handshake with me and Ares for the last time before we truly wave the kids goodbye as they board the bus which will take them to the train station to get back to Thracia. T-thank you! Thank you for the opportunity and experiences! Thank you for the sweetest girls I had the honor coaching. My phone vibrates and I dig into my purse to check it—from the bank. Ah, my final paycheck from Thracia with victory bonus, too. It really ends then. It truly ends here…

“… Are you alright?”

I tilt my head, finding Ares looking at me. Throwing my gaze somewhere else I press my hands against my mouth, concluding the sadness which nearly broke my eyes. “Yes,” my voice is faint. “And you?”

“… Happy, I guess,” he responds in a rather wise manner. “This is real. You are real, and I…”

“Ares…?”

He smiles faintly. He said he was happy, but why is his expression appearing a bit… gloomy? “I should stop messing around and be the kind of man who will make my father proud.”

“Eh?”

“… Right. Now that my schedule loosens a bit…” he makes a fist. “Rabbit, I’ll register for the ring.”

“Oh, my… s-so you… you truly mean it…”

“Yes. I’m serious this time. Diarmuid is probably going to be disappointed because I hellishly trained him for nothing, huh?” he chuckles lightly. “And now that I have a purpose, after that…”

“Hnnn? What are you talking about~? There’s no such a thing as wasted training, don’t you think?” I gently pull his mullet. “Didn’t you say you are preparing him to get the… sho… uh—“

“Shodan—starting black belt?”

“Yeees. And he does Shotokan like you? Then there’s nobody more fitting to tutor him than you, right~?” I tick his nose. S-sometimes I wonder why he is so patient with me like this. Hnnn. “You keep calling the kids that—Champion Ced, etcetera, etcetera… you too, are a champion.”

“… No.”

“Awww, you are embarrassed, meow. Fifty times undefeated. Crusader they called you—”

“… Lene.”

“Then that must be because you are more than brick-breaker and bone-crusher, nooo~?” I tick his nose again. “Come on. That applies to you too, you know~? You said it yourself—a champion needs more than just strength to be one. There’s strength… and power!” mimicking him when he brought in an injured Coirpre home the other day, I make a fist too, playfully hammering it against his shoulder.

He shakes his head again. Tender, so tender that his expression is when he takes my fist with that small smile I’ve been so fond of reigns back on his face. “Here’s how you do it,” he fixes my fist, clasping my four fingers and positions my thumb over them. “Don’t insert your thumb into your clasping fingers, rabbit—that reduces the power and risks injury. The only bone needs breaking is your opponent.”

“Hnnn. Noted. Um…”

“Yes?”

“Are you… heading home?” somehow—somehow I fidget with my purse. S-shit, he probably thinks I’m just like the kids there, getting all sad and melancholic because they had to say goodbye with him. Why, somehow I want to be selfish today. Like—like can I… can I have him? For myself? Just the two of us here? I already got the same drink like other kids. I already felt melancholic too because… because the moment he said he truly would return to the ring, somehow it was almost like… he is fading away. Because in the end he is still the Black Knight—no, the champion, that is… that is unreachable for me…

“Are you?” he asks. Afternoon summer breeze throws his mullet around, creating a spectacular view of flying golden strands befitting the formidable lion who possesses the mane. He stands about one-two staircases before me, making him appear... bigger than he already is. Somehow…

“Why?” I’m about to walk up to him. Hnnn. Why, somehow… somehow he is unreachable. Like there’s something… something that isn’t just about height speaking here…

But he descends the staircases. Slow but sure a pleasant smile gradually emerges on his face as he takes his hands out of his pockets. “Because I said I wasn’t going anywhere,” he replies. “… I’ll take you home.”

“Oh…”

“Or do you prefer me driving you to the train station?”

This is absurd. Why do I feel so… doubtful out of a sudden? H-he is not going anywhere, right? What’s with this sudden impression of such… unreachable Ares? He comes when I look for him, answers when I call, and be there when… needed. Can I be selfish? Can I… can I have him for myself… today? I shake my head. He approaches me. As always his footsteps are soundless and long. Refractions of afternoon sun look spectacular like woven golden threads hanging on the sky. “Beautiful, right~?” I giggle a little bit.

He looks at me. Those sharp eyes look so tempered as his lips make a pleasant curve. “… Yes.”

… I didn’t know alleged lion demon could speak so gently…

* * *

 

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _Infinite meat cuts >:) panic at the grill house 8) God I was so close to crying! TToTT_

 **_tinyyymagic @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Awww hugs we love you too Coach Bragiii_

 **_dancedancerebellion @tinyyymagic_ ** _I’m going to miss you all! **@ordinarilykarin @sarlopts @miralster**_

 **_pheeew_ ** _Oh so that’s why Ced looked so sad when he came home :O **@dancedancerebellion**_

 **_larceiheyhey @dancedancerebellion_ ** _There is a hand._

 **_dancedancerebellion @larceiheyhey_ ** _Oh it’s **@anblacknight** grilling ^^_

 **_missrandom @dancedancerebellion_ ** _Who is the cutie? Hiii I’m your beauty tips follower XX_

 **_dancedancerebellion @missrandom_ ** _Oh it’s uh, a friend from college…_

 **_missrandom @dancedancerebellion_ ** _But is he single??_

 **_dancedancerebellion @missrandom_ ** _Hnnn? Despite his hair color, he’s not a cheese slice ^^_

I banish my phone into my purse, racing the campus corridor once again, slightly irritated for feeling… _irritated._ Like, why is a flirtatious comment for Ares under my post kind of annoyed me? Is it because summer delivers hot humid mornings as always? But I’m feeling comfortable enough in my white puffy-sleeved skater dress. The breeze feels cooling as my ponytail sways back and forth through all my walk from the station, entrance, and finally the typical building where I have my classes. Well, I like summer! There’s that cheeriness seeming to transcend well to people, bringing that joyous festive mood which makes people happy. And of course, it’s the season of the year where you get to wear cute things and be quite deliberate about it!

Oh, right. Should meet up with Larcei again because she ordered a sunscreen under my account for this online shop so that we could enjoy that sweet forty-percent discount since her purchase made the account qualify for that! The good part is, I don’t need to look for Larcei even more because I find her standing by the door. She waves at me the moment she sees me, and I quickly wave back, treating her to a chuckle as I take her concealer out of my purse. Her class is still pretty empty, so we freely bundle together around the desk where Larcei places her bag.

It does not take long for us to engage in chit-chats—especially when Fee shows up with a box of half dozen vegan donuts she proudly places before us. “My mom is recovering so my dad is going to loosen his schedule even more,” she smiles. “Can’t do it without your support. So, have some donuts!”

“Aww, you shouldn’t have!”

“I know I should have,” Fee points at the donut I just picked. “Strawberry again, Lene?”

“Sssh,” I stick my tongue at her. “So…”

Conversations flow like water—ranging from Fee’s detailed explanation about her mother’s condition. I’m so glad to hear that everything seems to improve for the _best_ at the Forseti household! Ced seems trying to bond with their father too after the last time they seriously clashed. Now that Fee’s family saga seems to be heading to the right direction, Larcei drops another bomb about Iuchar’s theater project which stole her sleeps because his group commissioned three promotional posters from her as Fee is back with her phone for her morning routine of texting Poop… I mean, Arthur.

“I honestly liked doing that,” Larcei speaks in a rather low tone somehow, looking pensive yet sheepish at the same time. “Iuchar is so passionate that it’s—almost, almost, endearing, somehow. We had a few meet-ups to decide on the design, colors, everything—and surprisingly, he made a mindful, client, you know? I mean, I didn’t even know. He didn’t fuss or rush me. He truly believed in me.”

“There, there, Larcei, it’s alright,” I pat her shoulder. “It’s good, isn’t it? That means he’s a nice guy.”

“I don’t know,” she has that thin smile on her face, but instead of the typical powerful Larcei I’ve known all along, she appears so… yielding somehow. Yielding and confused? But it does not seem to be in a bad way because had this been truly bothering her then she wouldn’t even start with something sounding positive about him—we would hear how much of a creep Iuchar was even before we got to see each other like this! And knowing Larcei, she wouldn’t hesitate to speak out even if it would only mean to protect us from going through the same unpleasant experiences like her.

“What happened, Larcei?” I ask again, gentler this time as I squeeze her hand for comfort. She shifts, looking awkward and unsure that she nearly _jumped_ when I touched her. “Is everything alright?”

“Exactly that,” she makes a gesture with her fingers. “Exactly because—because there wasn’t anything wrong at all with him. You know, he might be rather dumb. But if there is something I’m sure about now, he is… sincere. He may appear loud but—but it’s just—it’s just that he compliments sincerely.”

“Now that you said so,” Lana stops munching. “Iuchar is loud but nearly everything he says is nice.”

“Except when he says he needs to pee—loudly,” Fee chuckles. “But that means he’s not lying, right?”

“Enough about me,” Larcei smiles wryly, taking three rolled-something she neatly keeps in tube-like containers. “I’ve finished his commissions and we’d need to dance for Diarmuid’s performance later, right, Lene? Anyway, who are you going with?”

That question hits me like a bomb. I just realized I haven’t made any appointment or something similar for the Art Night! And just like that, I innocently shake my head. I don’t have anyone yet indeed! “I don’t see why I need a date,” finally I give her a better answer—or so I think.

Fee smirks as she puts down her phone. “Interesting. We haven’t even said anything about a date…”

“W-well!” I hit her with my purse. “Even better, then! It’s not like the first time for me to come home at that hour. I’ll take train as always. Or you know, taxi.”

“But you have a personal driver,” Fee responds with a mischievous grin. “Sir Lion.”

That really hits me somehow. “He’s not my driver,” I quickly retort. “I mean—I mean, I hang out with him not because he drives and I don’t have a vehicle to get by. That would be low.”

“And you are okay with it—hanging out?” Fee mindlessly quips, throwing her phone into her jeans pocket right now. “Really, though—you and Ares—how far?”

“W-what is that supposed to mean?”

“Your Instagram and everything, duh,” Fee giggles before shifting her attention outside. “God, I got paranoid. How many minutes do we have until Larcei’s lecturer arrives?”

“That sounds ominous, though,” Larcei chuckles. “You can infiltrate this class, he doesn’t care. Big class doesn’t really look into attendance often—you guys are not going to die.”

“I can’t draw,” I pout.

“We can’t either,” Lana faithfully follows suit. “I guess it’s time to go?”

“Will Seliph magically appear from the bathroom and wave like the other day?” I poke her, noticing she has been craning her neck a couple of times like she is checking on the window or something.

“P-perhaps?” Lana returns to her seat, sheepishly mumbling under the sudden small donut bite she takes. "Will Ares magically cross the corridor like he’s always been this week?”

“Surprise attack is forbidden!” good God, did gentle Lana just catch me off guard? I need to check if she truly did not begrudge Ares for being called a lantern. Lana—the gentle Lana? Suddenly she exchanges glances with Larcei and Fee, where both nod at her. They have that collective friendly-yet-impish look as they move closer to corner me! W-wew. Girls? Hello? G-girls?

“Nooow, Lene,” suddenly Fee taps my shoulders, gently nailing me into my seat. “Let’s speak Lion.”

“What?”

“Yeah! How long are you going to suffer like this?” Lana taps her foot impatiently. “Uh-huh, your face says you want to argue—nooo. Your situation is totally different than what I have with Seliph! We are childhood friends, Lene, and I’m not in a rush. But you and the lion—that’s different.”

“How so?” I pout, finishing my donut. Great, my girls are taking me hostage now?

“You are so happy lately,” Lana mumbles.

“We know it is old ladies who tend to do that—saying you look happier or more beautiful lately, then it has to be because of a man,” sighing, I pat my hands to cast off the crumbs. “Really though, Lana…”

This time, however, Lana sighs louder. “Even if that is the case, so what? I mean—you look happier lately, and that is important. Contended-happy, not just like, momentarily happy. Lene, honestly… h-honestly I’m just so glad you can smile like that again…”

“L-Lana?” w-wew, is she sobbing?

“… Right. Prior to this, men repulse you so much that it’s almost like you cower and crawl when they approach you,” Larcei speaks gentler this time. “And then with the… um, recent events… listen—by anything holy, what kind of friends unconcerned when their girl shrinks and withdraws like that?”

“And it seems you don’t feel like you have to do these things when you are around him,” Fee chimes in. “You are comfortable is what we are saying—and franklyyy, dear rabbit, that alone is precious.”

Somehow hearing that nickname drives me to blush. Darn it. “… Hnnn.”

“This dumbass lion seems nice and sincere, so what are you waiting for?” Larcei scratches her head. “I’m just saying—you’ve been so concerned with other people, time to have something for yourself, no? Is that ‘I don’t have time for this’ or ‘I don’t dare wishing’ or ‘I like him but I’m scared’? We’re not forcing, but sure we don’t feel like sitting idly seeing how it kills you inside.”

G-God! “Well, I’m not sure…” slow but sure my story comes out. About him, about me. Somehow I want them to know that he is just—just so cute like that. And how sweet he is without even realizing that he can be so sweet, like he is charming exactly because he doesn’t try so hard to appear so. That he just does as always. Less talk, more action—and how… how cared for he makes me feel so far. At the same time his attention also feels genuine—from the questions he innocently asked, the sincerity in his praises for me, the genuine… uh, admiration he harbors when I got to talk about school work and my dance jobs with him. Like—like never in my life I expected a fucking karate champion truly thought what I did was not easy. I truly did not expect someone who is so stereotypically masculine like that does not make degrading or condescending comments about… me, cheer girls, and all that it takes to be a girl.

… And Larcei is right. It’s scary. It’s scary to be so unguarded for the first time like that. It’s scary to—to take down your armor one by one, being hopeful that he will—he will want to get to know you more, further, deeper… because you _desperately_ need to know if this is just going to be another case where one thinks all he needs to do is just playing several stages until he can unlock a special prize. Because you begin to think that he is so nice like this. Because you begin to think that everything does not really feel the same if he is no longer there. Because you want to be sure he is not like the other self-proclaimed nice guy so far—even though at the same time you aren’t sure until when you get to decide that he is, indeed, different, even with his own weaknesses. Because… because you have never experienced something like this and you wish you could have something to believe in…

“Take him on dates!” Fee says enthusiastically as she rubs my back. “Then see if he’s still dumb!”

“Right, right~! Let’s see if he still can keep that face straight,” Larcei grins.

“I-I’m not going to confess to him! Why me?” I yell at them. God, if Larcei grins, then it has to be epic!

“Not going to confess?” Fee wears such horse-wide smirk this time. “I said taking him on dates to hang out, Lene, not like, you know, you drop to your knees to propose to him!”

“Perhaps he should confess,” Larcei sighs, not-so-kindly pats my head. “Dear gods, you are so helpless.”

“Yes, he should! After all why do I have to—aaah, Larcei!” I want to smack her, but skillfully dodging that she is, my hand only manages to catch wind. Sometimes I forgot that she is also well-trained, hnnn! I can’t continue messing around with both Larcei and Fee since Lana is too sweet to be smacked because a cheerful voice stops us from trolling each other like that.

“Good mooorning!” a cheerful greeting hits us like tsunami. Speaking of the Devil, blessing in disguise is real indeed, because Iuchar’s face peeks in. He casually enters the classroom, and—oh, God, flashy as always! I do like his flowing gentle blue sleeves there! His belted high-waist brown trousers also make a fine addition for that fashionable look. Hmmm, come to think of it, Diarmuid is also pretty bold for his vivid printed t-shirts and flared if not ripped jeans, but Iuchar’s fashion game is still stronger, hehe!

… At least compared to some lion demon who has five similar belts in black color that I know.

“Ladies~! What a sight to behold!” Iuchar bows before us, opera-style like he’s making an entrant. “I’m here for the delightful Larcei! How are you this fine morning, my fine friends?”

“… Here you go,” Larcei awkwardly places the tube containers over Iuchar’s open arms, making the latter gulp. “And don’t worry, I’ve received the money. Nice working with you.”

Iuchar unveils one of the posters. Like a shy winter sun his smile slowly emerges, giving us the sight of those sweet dimples as his eyes light up when he speaks to Larcei. “Oooh, this is glorious! You are so talented, my dear Larcei! I know it, if someone could translate my ideas on canvas, that must be you!”

“… Oh,” Larcei throws her gaze back onto the floor. “… For real? You probably said that to everyone.”

“But no, dear Larcei! I didn’t commission just anyone, you know?” Iuchar still has that innocent gigantic smile on his face as always while Larcei looks like she’s boiling alive. Gods. Weeell, this is the time for the diplomat Lene to do something~!

“Hnnn. Perhaps you should take Larcei out sometimes to get that artsy inspiration flowing?” I wink at him. “Know any nice event recently, Iuchar~? Come on, art folks have each other’s back?”

“Aha! Dear Lene, you came to the right person to ask! Behold, magic!” Iuchar reaches for something he tucks between the book he is carrying. “See, it’s what I commissioned Larcei for…”

Well, turns out Iuchar’s theater is rehearsing _The Sound of Music_ scenes this summer! Oooh God. I thought they would do something actually artsy like Ophelia or something, but turns out they are making a light-hearted but still touching performance. They are going to perform the songs from _The Sound of Music,_ with some choreography here and there to be faithful to the original movie. And not just that, it takes place today—Friday afternoon, around six—perfect to end the busy week with something more relaxing. Something more… um, romantic? W-well, nevertheless, it’s going to be sweet, I’m sure of it! Iuchar says he is going to sing too, so if only out of solidarity among friends—considering he, too, is a performing arts major like me, I want to go! Besides, _The Sound of Music_ truly is a sweet movie, and many songs have that tender vibe about them which warm your heart.

I purchase a ticket from Iuchar while Larcei is still stunned where she is, contemplating the VIP seat Iuchar casually dropped on her hand. “Our designer needs entertainment too! Thank you for your hard work, dear Larcei! Please watch me well as I work hard on the stage!”

“Um…” wow, Larcei gets tongue-tied! And today I learned that many people actually do fancy Iuchar’s theater, because out of around three hundred they printed, twenty are left now! I kind of feel guilty for not catching up with what my friends are up to because I’ve been being so busy lately as well! I hope they didn’t tell me because they did not want to bother me, seeing how the matches stressed me so much and the Yied incident happened not long after the campus creeper one. S-sigh.

“Only one?” Fee takes out her purse to purchase two tickets. “I can use the beautiful theater…”

“To make your own movie with the journalism guy,” Iuchar winces, shaking his head but accepting her payment, regardless. “Great, I thought you were a lady of culture.”

“Why not both?” Fee sticks her tongue at him. “I’ve got two eyes, sugar cube.”

“And he’s got two hands,” Iuchar counters.

“Gods. Nooo. He’s gotta work, alright,” Fee rolls her eyes now. “How else your glorious performance will land on Jugdral-U bulletin, darling, Iuchar?” sighing, she pinches Iuchar’s nose so hard that our dear flowery theater master coughs. “At least if I’m watching you guys I can deal with the fact that I have a date but my date has a date with his work. When he’s off to report, I can steal his seat for my bag.”

“It’s alright, it’s alright! I’m just teasing,” Iuchar quickly salvages his nose from Fee. “I need confirmation because Lester and his band ordered a bunch. Now I’m off to meet Diarmuid to get my money.”

Oh. I didn’t know Diarmuid bought a ticket. And… hnnn, apparently he and Lester are close? I guess that explains why he is pretty deliberate about Tirnanog then. Somehow I fidget with the ticket I just got. I do want to watch it, but… but why does my chest tighten? I’m tempted to purchase another ticket. But if he rejected me, it would be sad, looking at the unused solo ticket. Well, it’s not like I’m going to be alone because regardless which is which, Larcei and Fee will be there with me too, considering Larcei got a freebie from Iuchar and Arthur might be too busy to truly watch the performance. At the same time I don’t want Ares to say yes just because he thinks he owes me, not like, you know, because he wants to be there to watch this one too. I just—I don’t want to feel like I’m only tolerated, no more…

In the midst of doubts I sense Iuchar’s hand on my shoulder. His smile is kind and understanding as he puts another ticket strip on my hand. “Here. Get your date.”

“But—Iuchar!” I gasp a little. He just handed another VIP-seat ticket to match with the seat my ticket falls into, and definitely close to the seats my friends have booked.

“Why, dear Lene! This is summer, nobody gets sad on my watch!” Iuchar chuckles. “It’s not like we are strangers, anyway. If the date refuses, just return it to me, free of charge. Only when the date accepts that I’ll take your money. I only ask that you keep the ticket in its initial condition, though!”

“Aaah, Iuchar!” sobbing a little, I tackle him into a hug. Hnnn, I’ve got nice friends! I’ve got a nice brother! Professor Forseti is kind too, so I’ve got nice teacher as well! Now, if only I had a nice b—

… B-buddy to watch this with, right? H-haha, right? … Right?

“There, there,” Iuchar slings his arm over my shoulders easily. “Now, now, where is your sunshine?”

“Hehehe, I’m the sunshine actually. He’s the night which rests your weary soul at ease…”

“Ooooh?”

I let out another gasp. D-did I just…

“OOOOH LEEEENEEE!” Fee squeals from the corner.

“This ‘he’ could be just anybody!” I glare at her.

“That has to explain why it’s specific, I bet,” Fee merely yawns. “Night. Dark. Black. Knight.”

Aaah, dear God!! But it was more like… mindless exchange because Iuchar spoke poetically like that… right? Thankfully, the little rambling sound from the outside saves me from trying to kill my own friends. I can hear people’s murmurs and chatters as hasty footsteps can be heard rustling all around the corridor. What’s happening, why are they sounding like horses trying to desperately get out of a battlefield? We all peek outside, with Iuchar’s arm still conveniently resting around my shoulders just as my arm is around his waist when we joked prior.

Now I understand what all this commotion is about!

… It is Ares. He stands super straight in a stiff manner, shooting hell-level murderous glare at… Seliph!

Right, Seliph Baldos Chalphy stands at the end of the corridor from the direction of the men’s bathroom like the morning where I encountered him on the way to meet up with Lana! Seliph simply waves at Ares, and despite his kind smile, he appears wary as if contemplating whether he should just ignore that Ares practically conveys murder or actually anticipates Ares running across the corridor to start a fight.

“Why are you here, asshole?” Ares asks roughly. D-did he plan his entire outfit for today or something? He has black sporty sleeveless top paired with dark blue jeans. He still has his backpack intact but his leather jacket is loosely draped over him, and everyone else at the corridor seems to have similar thought like me—what if the moment that jacket is dropped onto the floor, that moment he also drops everything to deck Seliph?

“To meet Lana. And you?” Seliph smiles, unperturbed by how intensely sour the look Ares shoots him with. His flowing blue hair is still neatly tied with a bandanna, forming a glorious pig tail worthy to appear on a fashion magazine. He has white polo shirt paired with classic blue jeans as a denim sling bag crosses over his chest with a thick file folder clutched in hand. I have to give him credit—Seliph truly is a pure guy, even the way he dresses does not flaunt anything about him at all. We are talking about Jugdral-U’s favorite dude with two decent scholarships which nearly totally obliterate his expenses, stellar academic record, being a protégé of the famed prosecutor that is also Larcei’s cousin known to drag environmental criminals and poachers to jail. Yet there he is, maintaining his endearing ingenuity while other law majors behave like they rule the world and dress like young executives.

Lana slowly emerges from behind my back, gasping as well. "O-oh my. Seliph indeed is here.”

We all look at her.

“I-I’m just saying!!” she shrieks, red-faced fishing a victorious giggle out of Fee.

“This is my floor,” Ares whispers dangerously. “And you block my path to my class.”

“Oh. You can just say and I’ll step aside,” Seliph still has that kind smile on him!

“No need. You know, this is probably a blessing in disguise,” Ares narrows his eyes as he moves closer. “Perhaps if I break you while your woman is watching, you’ll eventually understand my pain…”

“And yours will be happy if you return with bloodied face?” Seliph sighs. “Must we?”

“My woman?”

… Look at Ares and his priorities. Sigh. “Yes, preserve that face!” … No, look at _me_ and _my_ priorities.

“I-I’m not his girlfriend! Uh—yet!” Lana quips from behind the door. I’m not complaining considering I just quipped too. Why do I have to be dumb 24/7?! People are busy clearing the corridor now, either to save themselves or make room in case a fight indeed breaks out. Some rescue themselves into classrooms while some other pack into Larcei’s class like they are securing a good view for a cage fight.

I shake my head. This has to stop. Really, until when are they going to evade each other, as if there is no other option to do besides fighting if they catch each other face to face like this! Lana seems wanting to reach for Seliph but thrown in between—can’t blame her, nobody would even want to get close to Ares on daily basis, let alone like this when the Black Knight actually pulls a Black Knight on another person. It’s now clear that Seliph does not want to fight him. But it’s also clear to me that Ares is not actually the type of guy who likes to engage other people in a fight out of bloodlust, so what is this for? Geez, why are men so dumb?!

Almost everyone nearly jumped to their feet when—when it happened. The war drum is pounding hard now that Ares drops his black backpack onto the floor, leaving only his leather jacket mindlessly draped on him. And wew, he begins taking out his hands from his pockets! That pose combined with such sporty sleeveless top revealing his biceps that he wears make him really look badass.

“What do we do?” Fee speaks because we’ve been too busy staring at the delicious Ares like that.

D-delicious? I mean dangerous, darn it, and who is ‘we’ again?!

… I need someone to douse me with cold water, perhaps. Sigh. Damn this lion demon!

“Perhaps we should let them be until they tire themselves—only then these two will realize how dumb they behave,” Larcei sighs. “Men. I really don’t understand.”

“I don’t like Seliph getting punched…”

“I can’t stand Ares getting bruised…”

T-there is a looming silence since we uttered that at the same time! Lana and I exchange glances with each other. Her face is just so red because she is practically blushing madly now, and I—ahem, I can’t guarantee if I wasn’t like that to begin with. She shyly chuckles, which I return by laughing awkwardly as my hand digs into my hair to scratch it, leaving Larcei shaking her head, sighing the loudest among us all.

“… Ares, can we talk instead?” Seliph mutters like a normal person with functioning brain that he is.

“Talk?” Ares simply scoffs. “How _dare_ you.” W-wew, he casts his leather jacket aside…

“I see. Too bad…” with a sad smile Seliph reaches for his bag to take it off him as well.

I need to do something. I have to. Lana clutches on Larcei while Fee truly gasps now. Not fun anymore…

“Let go of me, Iuchar,” I slide past Iuchar’s arm, which still encircles my shoulder because like us he too has been too stunned to do anything else. Ares’ eyes widen, sensing something grabs him from the side. He looks down. That ferocious death glare slowly dissipates like ink being dissolved in the water…

“If dropped, it will get dirty,” prying his balled fists open I dump the jacket on his hands.

“Oh, thanks…” he awkwardly takes the jacket back, clearly not knowing what else to do. From the corner of my eyes I can see Seliph breathes relief, giving me a silent thumbs-up while he looks at me in such a way like he is profusely thanking me. Seliph—ah, Seliph, how I admire his fortitude—does not leave. I like that he is not simply leaving like everyone else while at the same time isn’t affected by Ares’ bloodlust like that. Seliph still maintains his smile even when Ares walks past him to get to his own class.

I’m clutching the extra ticket Iuchar gave me. I really need to tell him. Besides, this is akin to last-minute ticket, right? There might be people who just caught up with the play like me and Iuchar needs to know if this extra ticket is going to be used or not so he can sell it to someone who truly wants it. _Take him on dates,_ my friends’ words suddenly hammer me again. Y-yeah, I want… I want something clear here too. While I hope I begin to be more fluent in Lion, I also want…

… Or perhaps I… I hope he too genuinely likes hanging out with me. Not just like, he thinks it’s an obligation because I’m the one asking that, and he thinks he can’t turn me down because of reasons.

From behind my shoulder I can see Seliph approaching Lana, saying something which makes her seem so happy. Arthur arrives at the building after the hurricane had passed that he unknowingly strolls in to reach Fee while Larcei looks sheepish as Iuchar keeps chatting with her. _How nice,_ I thought, smiling as well. They may not say it that much, but my girls look happy too. Well, I got myself! There’s no need to feel melancholic so suddenly—perhaps I should indeed take Ares out on dates so it would be clear if he is interested or not. Better to end it before it hurts me furthermore, right? ….

I’ve been mindlessly walking, not realizing that Ares has entered the classroom. So I inhale deeply, hoping that—at the very least—I’m not making a fool of myself and that should he reject this, may it be… clear yet courteous enough that I have time to compose myself there. Perhaps I should prepare to lose a friendship as well, because—you know—not all people can just—

… I know I shouldn’t speculate. But at the same time, I need to be… ready, right? Exactly because I’ve never done this before. Heck, I’ve never felt this… ahem, much about a guy before, let alone truly wanting to have good times as we get to errr, hang out, but like, just the two of us. Don’t confuse me…

I open the door to the classroom, hoping those architecture major seniors are either too dead or too busy to notice their class has been infiltrated. Hnnn, any class that isn’t yours is basically a strange, no-man’s land! Not to mention you cannot gauge for potential PvP zone compared to the safe space that is your own classroom because even if your classmates aren’t that nice, they aren’t usually evil enough to murder you while you steal some sleep by hiding behind a book.

“Umm…” I slide past the door. Please be half-dead, please be half-dead, p—

“Oooh, cute sophomore from some ungodly days ago!”

Aaaah! A voice interrupts me so loud that I nearly lose my will to live because this architecture senior literally yells from behind my ears. Gods, don’t scare the bejeezus out of me like that! “Eh—h-hello?” I wave awkwardly at him, eyes warily scanning where the hell the lion demon sits. Hmmm, does he even sit? Do lion demons sprawl on the ceiling? Should I look up? What if there’s a literal ghost looking back at me? … What are these wild intrusive thoughts again… steady, Lene, steady, this is just a classroom which occupants happen to be seniors—architecture major seniors—and then one of them happens to be the guy I’d like to take out on a date—

S-sigh, alright, alright, I want to…

But that aside, where is Ares?

“Oh. Are you going to see the theater as well?”

“Hnnn? Oh, yes—um, yes! Actually, one of the performers is my friend, and… eh, I’m of performing arts major—I dance,” I scratch my head. It’s not important, right? S-shit, can it be that this architecture senior thinks I’m hitting on him? Or like, you know, because I’m around here multiple times, that must mean I’m trying to flirt or something.

… Even if I am, not with this dude…

I can’t believe I manage to even formulate this thought.

“Really? Is that any good? Girls love that kind of shit, huh.”

Well, first thing first this is _The Sound of Music_ and not just ‘that kind of shit’, alright? And… oooh, no. Another sudden realization hits me—what if Ares refuses because this isn’t his cup of tea? Considering Ares is stereotypically masculine, being an active person perhaps he’ll fall asleep out of boredom.

… Sobs. Iuchar, where is the power of the heart when you need it? With my brain trying to sabotage my willpower like this, suddenly I begin to question my decisions… perhaps I should ask Coirpre. Right, is my little brother free this evening? This is a campus, but _The Sound of Music_ is a neutral play, there shouldn’t be any suggestive-anything on the stage. Okay, maybe I should just return this one…

“Leaving so fast?” the senior from prior clicks his tongue. “You’re cute, though. Wanna grab tea?” he hovers closer. Either he means it or not, that sudden move startles me a little. I don’t like my personal space being invaded. I don’t like being made to feel like I’m backed into a corner because my exit is blocked and that I have to smile not because I like it. … I dance, alright. The reason why I come off pretty strongly about this is simply because… because that’s my reality. I’ve been hit on online and offline, and with a line which kind of implies I’m not allowed to leave simply… simply takes me to relish all those unpleasant incidents I’d rather not to remember again.

I’m just about to turn away, getting out of the classroom when the door is open. Before me stood the delicious—err, ferocious Ares from prior, head tilting to the side with Altena clutching into the crook of his arm. “Gods, for real? I’ll contact you for sure! Seliph knows that stuff better than me and Leif combined! Even if you don’t want to speak to him, eventually you should, you know, considering…” her voice dies at an instant upon noticing that I’m literally facing her—no, she is looking at me, considering she is taller. … Hnnn. She and Ares do make a deathly good-looking pair, don’t you think?

“Hi?” I wave my hand at her, suddenly feeling so out of place. This isn’t my class. This isn’t… and that guy probably sums up everything well regardless of what is what—dudes typically don’t like this. And Ares is an active person too, so perhaps…

Altena smacks Ares on the head. “Next time tell the lady you’re out, dumbass.”

“Hmmm?” Ares turns around. “… Oh. Rabbit?”

“You know each other?” the architecture senior from prior is like—goggling his eyes at me.

“Yeah?” Ares dumps a thick reference book on a table near the door. Oh, so that’s where he sits! Nice! Easily found from the outside, and how relieving to know that he’s not that demonic to hang on the ceiling like ghosts in horror movies.

“Nice that you showed up with Alty, so it’s not like you don’t have fun on your own,” the dude grins. “I was just about to take the cutie out for tea. Haha, hey, it rhymes—cutie and tea! You like that?”

“No.”

“Oi, Black Knight. I wasn’t even asking you.”

“I know,” Ares flashes a smirk in return. “Do you want to go with him or do you need me here?”

“Um,” I can only mumble a little bit, eying Ares’ classmate… and then Ares… before my gaze moves over to the tickets I’m clutching and then Altena, who is now looking at my expression again—with wariness. She has that look akin to those police officers in action movies, who will whisper things like, “Blink if you need help,” when the situation has gone awry for the heroine. … Does this mean… does this mean I look helpless? Does this mean I can only trouble Ares because he has to keep an eye on me? I’m fierce too, you know? It’s just—it’s just for this one, and then to some _senior_ student I don’t even know personally, let alone now that he is Ares’ classmate… “I… want to talk to Ares…”

I hate that my voice squeaks like that.

“I am here,” Ares simply says. Huh, his eyes subtly travel on that dude!

I—can’t—I mean, how am I going to ask him to go on a… d-date… with me with… people watching? Besides, in a more private setting Ares can conveniently reject me without hard feeling too!

Just like that I instinctively take his hand.

The dude from prior _stares,_ but I quickly open the door, hastily rushing him outside with me. “What in the—“ I can hear him speaking, but Altena, in a cheerful manner, casually slams the door shut and positions herself against the door like she is ready to suplex this dude if he is jumping to get me. Altena has that innocent look on her face as she folds her arms.

“What?”

“That cute sophomore just now,” the dude murmurs. “She’s the Black Knight’s—“

Altena shrugs, purposefully leaving the conversation hanging as she dumps her weight to her own seat. From the outside I can see her sitting as like, lifting her legs that they are conveniently rest on Ares’ desk as well. “Yeaaa, nahhh. Not letting you sabotage his things. What are you, a second-grader?”

“C’mon, Alty, gimme some credit,” the dude snickers.

“Alright. You are creative. Happy?” Altena yawns, reading the reference book Ares dropped on his desk, not at all flinching let alone moving from her position like that. S-she’s formidable. Totally formidable…

Outside here I tug on Ares, mindlessly taking him away from his own class that we are halfway to… Larcei’s class. Aaaah, I totally did not notice! Meanwhile, people are still strolling in and out of classrooms, both filling and leaving the corridor—some are beginning to head to their classrooms as well, and I manage to catch some of them waving at me—folks who take this theater class with me, including Iuchar who shoots a brazenly gleeful look at me when he sees me and Ares near the wall. D-darn it!

“Ciao, my sunshine~!” he winks at me.

“Go away, Iuchar,” I sigh, nodding. “And yes, yes—yes, I know what you are thinking—and yes.”

“Very well, very well! Take your time to fraternize with the Deepest of the Nights there!”

“… What is he saying?” Ares looks as Iuchar turns away because I’m so ready to hit him with my shoe.

“P-pay no mind to it,” I grab Ares again.

“Why did he call you his sunshine?”

“Why did you have Altena in your arm?”

“What?”

“Eeeh?” or should I say—eeep—because… because I said it. I did not want to—b-but… ah, dear gods, since when did I get to be this insecure? I normally don’t care! I don’t even hate Altena, I swear on it! Yet something… something feels unsettling w-when he… _they_ …

I don’t understand. I don’t understand—I don’t understand—I don’t understand—I don’t understand—

—But then again I’ve never wanted to hang out with a guy so badly prior to this—

Ares shakes his head. He leans closer, closer… to match my eyes. “… So what is this about, rabbit?”

“You too as well—what was that?”

“Well,” he responds sullenly, ruffling his mane that it’s almost like he fidgets with his own hair. Huh? What makes him so awkward? “I thought that dude from prior wanted to take you out for a date.”

“H-he probably did, yeah.”

“And you had that pleading look somehow, so…” he scratches his head. “… You don’t want to?”

“No, he scares me! Um. Don’t deck him,” I watch how Ares shifts.

“… Alright,” Ares sighs but his guard loosens. “So when that flowery-speaking dude approached, I…”

“Ooomigosh. Nooo, Ares. Iuchar is my classmate for theater-related classes. I’m still a sophomore, so I get to take general classes required for my performing arts major even though I major dancing and he does theater,” that kind of… fishes a soft chuckle out of me. He thought Iuchar is hitting on me? Is that because the timing is bad due to that senior from before that he got protective of me? So it actually annoys him when dudes try courting me unceremoniously? Awh, how cute, hehehe. It’s almost like he secretly begrudges them for hitting on me! … Did he?

“… Rabbit, listen,” he cuts in. “My concern is there as you said so—he scared you.”

“Eh?”

“That is what I want to know, not your relation with other guys that isn’t me.”

“Huh?”

“Let me be clear,” he smirks. “I want to keep you safe, not confined.”

“Eeeh?”

“Right. So why are you so determined to make me know that he’s just a friend?”

GOSHDANGIT—right. Why? … Why do I want to make him see that I’m… totally single?

“Nothing happened with Altena either. She was too happy I’m competing again,” he shrugs, but that smirk says. “… So what is this about, Lene…?” his voice is deep and low, like he is cooing me. P-perhaps he is. But oh, God—please, don’t look at me like that. If you have that leonine smile on you while your eyes stay sharp as they anchor themselves in mine, y-you might… you might kill me on the spot. Hnnn, don’t make me miss my classes, Ares…

Somehow it’s so easy to lose voice when he is looking at me like that. So I merely hold up my hands, revealing the theater tickets I got from Iuchar. “T-they are performing _The Sound of Music_ this evening, at six,” it’s so hard to speak that my words come out as a whisper… faint and distant. If—if voice can be compared to a fog, t-then perhaps… “I’d like to repay the grill house.”

“That wasn’t even my treat, though,” he responds.

“Yes, but if not because of you, I wouldn’t even know they did a farewell banquet…” suddenly another realization hits me. Was that… was that his way to reject my invitation? O-oh, gods. I should have known. What a fool I’ve been—he is rejecting me. R-right, what was I thinking, attempting to take Ares out on a… theater date. Perhaps I should take him to see a boxing match or something… aaah, I’m so dumb! S-sobs! And I can’t even handle the idea of him rejecting me. So much… s-so much for being the humane one between us both. Now how do I retreat from the battlefield? “Eh. Sorry for taking your time. Uh…”

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Let’s see that performance,” his tone is flat, but that expression… isn’t so much. “Is that all?”

“Jerk,” sighing, I poke his ribs because… because he is still smirking like that.

* * *

  

… Oh, God. I can’t believe this is happening. We manage to get together at an agreed time, around the time when our respective classes are over. The first I managed to snatch off the class was Larcei because her schedule for today is similar to mine. Fee came right after, saying that Arthur should be here soon when he is done with his broadcasting practice. And as we chat and greet each other, only Fee brings up about boys. For some reason I don’t really feel like talking about Ares because it makes me feel… shy. After wasting time a little bit—including grinning and behaving so maturely (not!) at a Seliph who walks with Lana beside him—finally we decide to take our steps to the theater.

Larcei fidgets beside me, totally unlike the Larcei I’ve ever known so far. She clutches her ticket, flustered but does not look like she hates it. Meanwhile Fee enthusiastically waves at an approaching Arthur, again with a godlike DSLR dangling on his shoulder. We leave for the theater with different demeanor—Arthur and Fee walk before us, all cheery and chatty like they are determined to make the most of the time they can afford until Arthur has to work again to keep Jugdral-U bulletin running by reporting the event. Suddenly I’m clouded with doubts. What if Ares decides to bail out at the last moment, leaving me like one of those stupid rom-coms where a bride is left at the altar? T-that isn’t supposed to be a rom-com, but tragedy! Hnnnh!

The path to the theater has been decorated too. Theater folks have put up plant and flower pots along the way, even with the help of four light bulbs to illuminate the path as it begins to get dark. People have started to gather around the building, and performances can be seen running around in the background as musicians arrive with their instruments. We start coming in. Arthur and Fee take turn first because Arthur needs to take some ‘before’ photos and venture to the backstage. Fee waves at me again as she takes Arthur inside.

“Domesticate the lion!”

With a heavy heart, I have to smack her. And—and wew, how did they know it was Ares I’m taking with me?! Iuchar only passed me by and considering he performs, I doubt that he would have the time to actually announce that to everyone else! When I look left and right to locate him, however, I find an unexpected face…

… A lion. Junior lion, however—

Diarmuid strolls into the building, followed by a group of folks. Lester is there with Larcei’s twin Ulster, accompanied by the small ball of cheerfulness Patty, the drummer, and the group’s guitarist that is also her brother, Febail. He looks so cheerful too, and the rest of the band folks do not look less sharp either, spare Patty and her crop top and knee-length jeans with denim jacket which screams both fashionable and rebellious at the same time. Diarmuid is no less than delighted when he found me!

“Hellooo, my dancer!” he waves. “As expected for a cultured person.”

“Oh, come on. And you are here because…” I giggle along while Larcei still cranes her neck awkwardly. Is she looking for Iuchar?

“One needs to broaden his experience, though,” Diarmuid makes a playful V sign at an instant. “I don’t always do or listen to my only kind of music, you know. If you don’t improve, you get stuck.”

“So this is a study tour… or reconnaissance plan?” I return his line, feeling equally tickled. He is right, though. Perhaps he wants to learn something about mastering the stage considering our Art Night is held around ten days later—aaah, now I want to scream! Next week? Y-yeah, it’s like next week!!

“I’m going to be busy with this bunch,” he chuckles, gesturing at Lester’s band who equally nod and wave cheerfully at me. “Because practicing with a band is so different than preparing solo…”

“I agree. So when can I practice with you again?”

“Now?” Diarmuid clasps his chin a little bit. “Yeah. Now. How about that? Guys, I need help here, yo.”

“Yeah, alright,” Patty grins as she starts imitating drumming sounds. Ulster catches the vibe quickly that he joins in, serenading us with a vocalization of _Livin’ la Vida Loca_ like in an a cappella. Diarmuid takes me aside where it is not as crowded compared to the entrance like this. I quickly tap Larcei’s shoulder, showing her that I’m just going to move away a little bit with Diarmuid.

“You start like this…” I guide him to hold me as he hums the song faintly. It does not take long for us to complete each other’s movements because he reacts well, moving forward, withdrawing… his steps answering mine… his feet meeting mine, withdrawing again… this is great. His moves are no longer as stiff or awkward like before, so perhaps he has been practicing somewhere else? He manages to spin me around; his arm is all encircling my waist without a hint of awkwardness or doubt. This is great—I’ve been laughing and giggling all along while Lester and his crew keep maintaining their makeshift music for us. Diarmuid balances me well this time, and his touches do not feel excessive—or explosive as he described when we began to practice in Tirnanog. There was no hard-pulling or something that is too weak that keeps me unbalanced. “Wow, you are good!”

He seems to be enjoying this too! He does not stop smiling through everything, looking so pleased because I complimented him. “Did I do everything well?” he laughs back. “Did I hold you too roughly?”

“Not at all. I’m comfortable!” I twist under his hand. “The Art Night is going to be so great!”

“Oh, God. I hope so myself,” he sighs. “I guess what’s left now is maintaining my vocal quality.”

“Yes! Why, I’m not lying,” I nudge him. “You are perfect.”

“I hope so. But then again, thanks to you,” he smiles back, making a bow like he is ending a formal dance. Meanwhile Lester and the band clap nicely to compliment me! Awh, yay~! Heeehehe, that’s right! My stage is my kingdom, and I’ll maintain a good relation with the musicians and singer! We are the cool kids your mom warned you about, haha~!

“Oh, don’t diminish your own hard work~! You deserve the recognition!”

“Your compliment is one that I need the most. I’m so nervous actually. I hope I can pull this well,” he scratches his head. “Thank you again! Anyway, you seem to be alone. Got someone else to watch this with, or is it with a friend over there?”

“Oh, Larcei has a date,” I giggle a little bit, putting up a totally innocent expression while she makes incoherent sounds while shooting me a murderous glare. “You too, right, with the group?”

“I have this little companion here,” Diarmuid smirks, planting his palm over Patty’s head and ruffle her hair that she pouts, elbowing him. Little? We are about the same height! “But the group is a package.”

“Haha, I see! Some people take personal entourage when they are courting a princess, don’t they~?”

“… I call that a coward.”

We gasp! I turn around, finding Ares standing at the lower end of the staircases. Huh? He folds his arms, his lips are firm that they purse into a tight smile. I was just about to say something to him, but he climbs up, anyway, and is now standing head to toe against Diarmuid with me in the middle. “Ares?” I nudge him. Is it just me or those biceps even look more murderous now? Why is Ares looking at his own cousin with such a sharp gaze? Huh, he turns at me! His eyes are pretty dark too, and he averts them as if he tries to scan that I’m me, and not… Diarmuid?

“It seems,” he coughs a little bit. “… You have a date.”

That makes me blush. And I thought I’ve had enough getting easily flustered when he is around! Perhaps he indeed does have that effect... b-but if I tell, will he… hate me? “Um. I do. Actually—“

He sighs. He does not say anything else that it makes me feel awkward too. Eventually he gives in—with a heavy exhale I’ve never heard from him so far. “… Am I too scary that you can’t be honest with me…”

“Scary? Why, Ares, it’s just a glorious sleeveless black top~!”

“Then why…” Ares scratches his head again. “I mean, if you have a date…”

“… Oh. Um…”

“See,” he tries to chuckle along, but his expression betrays him. “… It is Diarmuid, isn’t it.”

“Diarmuid?”

“The… date?” he whispers, like he’s also shocked to even say it! “Then why did you still invite me if…”

“My God, you are a fucking dumbass.” H-huh? Thank you, that truly, perfectly captured my sentiment right now! But it was not my voice—instead, I find Diarmuid shaking his head. If eye stare can do something, his probably would have put Ares in a headlock or headbutt him in the face.

“Oh, I am a dumbass?” Ares frowns, scanning his cousin in a way a preying eagle does! Tapping his foot impatiently he moves a little bit with a displeased expression he no longer bothers hiding. “I’m not the one treating my date like she is only an auxiliary while I’m having fun some way else.”

“Ares, wait…” this feels different. He jokes and exchanges snarky lines with Diarmuid nearly all the time, but this one does not seem to be it. What is going on? Is he angry? But rather than that, it’s like he is disappointed rather than angry! And not only that, _sad_ —yes, sad! Did something happen prior?

“She is right. Listen, dumbass—my date is here— _no_ ,” Diarmuid glares at Ares somehow. “Meet Patty.”

Ares _gapes_. His eyes widen while Patty looks back at him, totally unfazed and everything. Instead, the Jugdral-U freshman shakes her head, imitating Diarmuid’s manner—not only that, she twirls her long braid like making a point through it. “What got you so riled up? Lene there came with a friend!”

“… Friend?” Ares, like the smart lion he is (not!) repeats, still dumbfounded and everything while Larcei, still, bless her, is too preoccupied by her own what-ifs and nervousness that she does not even seem to realize what has been happening—or how… odd Ares acted towards Diarmuid prior.

“Your face is constipated. Are you always this brooding?” Patty sighs. “I’m Patty. You don’t seem to hang out at Tirnanog often, so I didn’t recognize you until Lene called you.”

“Oh,” Ares mumbles. “Eh—yes, I’m Ares.”

“I know Diarmuid has a cousin,” she grins. “But never thought it would be you. Well, my brother Febail and I are part of the Liberation where your cousin sings sometimes, you see.”

“… Ah. Lester’s band—or so I heard?” this time his eyes move on me.

“Yep! He’s the overlord—bassist, I mean,” Patty chuckles. “My brother plays the guitar and I do the drum. Ulster there is versatile, but primarily sings. Check us out in action at the Art Night! Or go to our Bandcamp site, it's Liberation band without spacing. We offer free samples and you can buy our songs real cheap. Hey, I wouldn't wanna miss a marketing chance. Self-promo is not shameless.”

Ares is about to say something although his expression turns sheepish. Oh, right, he probably doesn’t have the heart to just say that he doesn’t even go to Tirnanog, let alone going to its events—which may come across as rather odd because nearly everyone who goes to Jugdral-U also hangs out at Tirnanog. And I don’t want them to make Ares feel bad there—especially considering Ares is healing…

Before I could say something, however, Patty merely takes Diarmuid’s arm to bring him inside because we are told to enter and have our tickets checked since the performance is about to start. “Welcome!” Oh, it is Iuchar! He personally stole a chance to get out of the backstage to welcome the guests? How sweet and professional—something I can learn from. This way, too, people will definitely remember him. This is like soft power to build connection, isn’t it? “Thank you for coming. Please enjoy the play,” he says, before gently approaching a fidgeting Larcei. “… Shall we, VIP?”

Larcei startles. And I’m witnessing history because she blushes and lets Iuchar take her inside. Diarmuid pats Ares in the shoulder before heading to the entrance with Patty’s arm encircling his waist. Lester and Febail drag their steps further inside to follow Iuchar while Larcei scores a quick head smack against a grinning Ulster.

“You have a date,” her twin says. “Awh, Larcei. Blushing like that makes you so sweet.”

“Well, even if that’s the case, you don’t,” Larcei rolls her eyes, flipping the table gloriously.

Now I’m only alone with Ares here. I mean—sure, people are pouring inside like my friends, but you know—I only have Ares here with me. I face him where he fidgets and everything. Knowing Ares all these months, I can see how awkward he is, so I smile at him. “Let’s get inside?”

“I uh—“ he ruffles his own mane. “If Diarmuid isn’t your date, then—then who? You said…”

Ooooh God. He truly is dumb!! But at the same time that innocence is also… endearing…

He looks at me and my finger pointing at him. There is a mixture of—I don’t know, there’s an expression I cannot really tell, like it is a combination of everything awkward with a splash of innocence with a hint of wanting to punch himself in the face too. He hasn’t said a word, which makes me also feel awkward. Suddenly he clears his throat, which startles me this time. “I am the date…?”

“Yes,” I chuckle as my heart starts jumping into my throat.

“... Then,” he whispers, approaching me. “Let’s get inside. I need to reimburse your friend for the ticket.”

“I thought you’d hate it,” I walk slowly beside him, joining dozens who begin to get inside as the event committee reminds everyone that they are about to close those doors in a short while. “And no, please. I told you I wanted to repay the grill house.”

“I don’t hate it,” he smiles. “Thank you very much.”

T-thank you? But questions can wait because it’s more important to get to our seats! And… ah, there they are. It takes a lot to ignore Fee’s knowing grin while Arthur greets Ares. How nice it is for Iuchar to seat us close with each other—Larcei is in the middle of us three—I mean, me and Fee—with Ares beside me and Arthur sitting next to Fee. Larcei’s position is the best to watch everything because not only that Iuchar placed her in the center, but the view from there is perfect and clear. To be honest, I like everything about this place! Whoever decorated it did a great job because… oh, dear, fresh flowers. Elegant lighting—yes, and I thought lighting couldn’t be. Everything looks so pretty with a modest touch that isn’t overwhelming. After all we are college students, and with the décor being sweet and warm like this, it does not exude the kind of suffocating elegance. And Ares seems to appreciate it too, spare the sudden alertness which makes him shift the moment the lights are being turned off.

I sneak past my own seat, touching him. This way he will know that I’m here, and there is nothing to be worried of. This may not be the habitat where he typically is, but I want to reassure him that everything is fine, and that he can relax the Lion in the lion a little bit. He seems to understand what I try conveying because he responds my touch with another touch, so simple and subtle, like affirming that I’m here.

And I’m here indeed…

Song after song is performed before us. They gave choreographies and mini-acts as a companion for each song to mirror the original movie as well as reminding the audience of the context of the song. I love this so much. I can’t stop clapping each time a song ends… and not only that, Iuchar does sing beautifully too. He delivers the opening, and his crew spinning like a ballerina behind him really takes me to that scene where Maria goes to the hill and sings. Larcei hovers closer to me that I leave Ares be. My smile grows when she, in the faintest, most demure tone she ever made so far as a Larcei, whispers that she really didn’t expect Iuchar to sing beautifully like that—and how cool he is when he is on stage. Song by song mellifluously passes by our ears while our eyes are being treated to beautiful combination of acts. The crew who performed _I Have Confidence_ is fantastic, and Larcei seems to be too keen on waiting for Iuchar’s next performance on the stage.

“Oh, look, the laendler,” I softly nudge Ares, who has been silent throughout the entire performance and only reacts to do some applause and clapping. Is he truly enjoying this? I don’t want to be the only one who does. He tilts at me so I can whisper to him—originally, the laendler score has no song but only a sweet dance between Maria and little Kurt, at the plaza of Captain von Trapp’s beautiful garden during the dinner party he held, which is supposed to honor Baroness Schneider.

“The what?”

“Laendler. It’s an Austrian dance originating from the eighteenth century. Apparently it was the prelude to waltz! They replaced the music with something more elegant and regal like a minuet to suit the ballrooms, but laendler was more folk-ish because…” I pat his hand, redirecting his attention to the stage. The folks who dance are making hops and jumps with twirls the way little Kurt and Maria did in the movie. “… There. The jumps. So fun, don’t you think~?”

“So rabbit,” he chuckles, earning ribs-pinching for me. “I think I like this better than Viennese waltz.”

“Because it’s active?” I stick my tongue at him.

“Perhaps?” he pats my head. “People tend to be happy when they do folk dances. Court dances seem to be suffocating.”

“Awh. Look at you, a pro.”

“Hmmm. Actually…” he chuckles sheepishly, whispering even fainter. “My mother loves the movie.”

“For real!”

“Yes,” he says, looking even… what, shyer? Aww! “So I’ve watched it too.”

“Oooh God. Did you like it? Did she? I feel like I can befriend your mom now, hehe. The moment I got the tickets I already felt so nostalgic! So glad to know that you watched it too! Hnnn—oops,” I have to contain my giggles so we don’t make loud noise in a theater.

“… I actually think it’s pretty sweet,” he mutters after a silence.

“Really?” I beam at him. Really? Can I trust him? I don’t want to interview him about what he actually knows about the movie as a whole, but I just… I just want to be sure he isn’t merely appeasing me…

“Yeah. The Captain actually likes Maria so much shortly after meeting her but just—“ huh, he stops talking? “Oh, that one is my mother’s favorite song.”

I glance at the stage. _Something Good,_ apparently. They are preparing the stage to perform it, giving us Iuchar back on the stage with his theater partner to co-sing whom I do not recognize. “I wonder. If the Captain likes Maria that much, why wouldn’t he just tell her? It’s clearly she’s also impressed by him.”

“But how will he make sure that she is?” he responds. “Why wouldn’t she tell him?”

“Well, why wouldn’t he?” I fold my arms. “You can see that she thinks he is way out of her league. All the status, money, track record… while she thinks she is plain.”

“You are not plain.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I think the Captain is scared.”

“Scared!” I exclaim. “How come?”

“Perhaps he thinks she is too good for him,” Ares shrugs, his lips twitch as he looks back at the stage.

 _Perhaps I had a wicked childhood_  
_Perhaps I had a miserable youth_  
_But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past_  
_There must have been a moment of truths_

Wow, the soloist is so stunning. Her voice bewitches the entire hall that nobody even blinks when she starts. “Job calls,” I can faintly hear Arthur whispering to Fee, and he leaves after darting a quick kiss on her forehead, clutching on the precious camera before disappearing to get some photos he will need for the scope. And Ares… he seems to be absorbed in the play as well. Iuchar takes the spotlight because he sings most of Captain von Trapp’s scores, while Ares’ eyes again are glued to the stage.

 _Nothing comes from nothing_  
_Nothing ever could_  
_So somewhere in my youth or childhood_  
_I must have done something good_

I steal a glance at him. J-just convenient, he looks back at me… “Perhaps it’s the other way around,” I whisper to him. “Because he is so good, she can’t help but thinking if he is even serious at all.”

“What if she is the salvation he has been looking for?” he blurts back. “I mean—the Captain does not strike me as someone who needs a lady to save him. Personally, I think that is cowardice, dumping your problem onto the woman you are interested in. She is supposed to be treasured, after all.”

“Hmmm. If she is willing to help in a way?”

“I call that a bonus—no, a blessing, perhaps,” his eyes harbor in mine somehow. “I think that’s why the Captain is scared. He should have known he does not deserve that to begin with.”

“But why? No person is pure. Not even the purest person you know—that’s humane.”

“But sometimes some girl can treat you so kindly that—that you realize you have never felt so humane prior to meeting her. You almost forgot that you are human too just like everyone else out there.”

“Girl?”

“Person… people—“ he clears his throat.

“… Your face is red, Ares Nordion,” slowly, I brush his cheek with my fingertips…

“If I may point out, so is yours, Lene Bragi,” he whispers back.

_For here you are standing there loving me  
Whether or not you should_

“God, he is so good,” Larcei mutters beside me. “Why, I almost thought I could love him.”

“As if you haven’t already…” I grin, joining Fee’s hand with hers. “Watch her, she is swooning.”

“As if you are not,” Fee giggles faintly. “I have two working ears, Lene.”

“And I have two fists, sis,” with a heavy heart, I need to threaten her.

“See, that’s a lion's speech. You are contaminated,” Fee sighs. “And you haven’t even exchanged germs.”

“Fee!” I glare at her, blushing red. Fee giggles again while Ares bends his head. When I glare at him too, he turns around, giving me that _What?_ innocent look as he maintains a sharp, serious gaze to watch the stage as if he is this art critic facing an enigmatic modern art work. Not going to work, Sir Lion—I’m the artsy one between us, and you don’t even grasp the concept of other colors besides black.

The performance is nearing the end. All the casts, including those who have been performing silent mini-acts to accompany the play are beginning to come out to fill the stage. They are here for the last score of the performance— _Climb Every Mountain._ I catch Ares hums a tune from where he sits, and my eyes light up a little bit. I’ve been concentrating on what he might haven’t been—so much that it takes away from what he actually is… he is there, seeming to genuinely enjoying everything he sees so far. If he is just so keen to impress me, he’ll say something more. If anything, usually men can’t wait for a chance where they can impress you and they think they have the right ammunition to do so, they would have done so from the start. But Ares barely even told me that he actually watched the movie, or that his mother actually loved _Something Good._ Also—Ares _knows_ the Captain actually liked Maria shortly after they met because her modest dress and witty answer tickled him? The first guy to ever say that! Yay~?

_A dream that will need, all the love you can give  
Everyday of your life, for as long as you live_

“You said your mom loved _Something Good_ ,” I return my attention at him. “Did she sing it?”

“Oh, she would. Shyly though,” Ares chuckles. “She’d drag my dad to watch it with her. She liked the gazebo scene and my dad has always been a man of finesse, anyway.”

“Haha, really? Your parents sound cool.”

“… Yeah. My dad’s my paragon. I’m—nothing.”

“… Ares?”

He shifts. And purses his lips once again. “I’ve got a confession to make,” he murmurs.

“Mmm. Shoot me.”

“No, you’ll get hurt,” he chuckles. “First of all, I looked like a fool and I’m sorry about that.”

“No, you look nice! Um—” oh, goshdangit, when will this potato brain ever work?!

“I said I looked like a fool, not looking foolish,” he looks back. “… Do I, though?”

… That really makes me giggle. Ah, dork cat. “Not telling until you finish what you want to say.”

“… Alright. Diarmuid,” he winces. “And you. I just—I just want you to be treated well, and…”

“I am, though.”

“… I see. So that answers it—“

“By you.”

He goggles. And I need to pretend I didn’t see him reacting like that so he keeps talking. “And the second part? You said first of all—there has to be a follow-up, hnnn~?”

“Well—yeah. I don’t think I can live up to my dad’s expectation. His image has always been a strong presence—he’s the mountain, the paragon—everything that I am not…” he mutters, clasping his hands before him as he speaks. “… I feel like I need to do something big to prove myself. I’m his son. I should…”

“Ssh,” I quickly tick his lips with my finger. “Ares, you are you. And your father is a human too like you. I guess I shouldn’t be the one talking because I dance to trace my mother’s footprints, anyway, but…” sighing, I recall the past events… “… But even then, it’s you that I’ve come to know so far. Not him. Say~ if you keep comparing yourself to other people you will not recognize your shadow anymore.”

“My shadow?”

“Your color?”

“I mostly wear black.”

“Then it’s fine too,” I pat his hand. “Like, you are so kind. So dumb and dork but then again cats are.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And I like cubs I said.”

“I can settle with this ‘technically, same species’ argument, I guess.”

“Your dad isn’t an architect?”

“Haha, no. Combat veteran in the army—tank commander, and then a realtor.”

“So he can kill people while talk about buildings and vice-versa.”

“Yes.” Here we go again, Mr. Straight Face!

“See, you are already like him. Can build, and then can kill. Is he also a blackbelt?”

“Very much so.”

“In Shotokan?”

“And MMA.”

“Then you also like _The Sound of Music_ like he does.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“Liar, your eyes said so~!”

“… Hmmm.”

“And what did your parents do when they reached _Something Good_? Did they repeat it? Because—you see, I’d repeat the laendler. I loved it a lot. I just like how cute Maria was when she danced with the Captain. And little Kurt reeeally wanting to be a grown-up so he can be a proper gentleman was just…”

“Coirpre,” he mutters huskily. We share some nice faint chuckles for that one.

“Hnnn. Not fun that you know my family while I don’t,” I sigh. You know what, I didn’t realize our faces only become closer and closer each time we speak. I know that Larcei is practically gushing about how awesome Iuchar’s performance is with Fee right now—and no doubt about it, he _is_ being a total star this evening. And his crew is equally stunning, especially with this final score. But somehow—somehow, under this dim light, there’s—someone… who absorbs my attention and takes my breath away. And…

“You know my cousin,” he murmurs.

I roll my eyes.

“Alright, cousins.”

“And I’m not interested. My art history paper needs more attention anyway,” I yank his mullet. “I tell you what, how about this. Recommend me some books you think I can use. You study landscape architecture, anyway, and with your urban planning specialization, sure you know the good stuff when it comes to landscape planning. I mean, sure, I’m only studying it in the art history frame, but… hello, college senior~? If you want to call me sophomore then you need to put your ass where it belongs.”

“I need your consent first.”

“Jerk. Don’t say that with such killer smile.”

“… Hmmm. Killer smile?”

“You’re mocking me.”

“No. It’s just—I’m surprised,” his thumbs make a circular movement out of his clasped hands. “I’ve been told I have a death stare.”

“Oh, you do, alright.”

“Didn’t know my smile was nice. I almost forgot how to…” he shifts in his seat a little bit, dragging his backpack which he keeps on the floor when someone is walking. “Never mind. Not brooding here.”

_Climb every mountain, ford every stream  
Follow every rainbow, till you find your dream_

“You haven’t answered my question,” I playfully grab his arm. I didn’t mean to grab here, but—yeah, my fingers land on his biceps. Or should I say, nice, naked sleeveless biceps which shyly glisten under this dim light. His skin is nice to touch—I mean, convenient, right? Haha, what am I even thinking about—

“Ah, right. I do have books, but I don’t know what you need. Come to my room.”

“R-room.”

“… House. But of course, yes, that’s where I keep my books.”

“O-of course.”

“And see my mom cooking. Did that answer the reference and family questions, rabbit?” he smirks.

“Not really,” I muster a softer tone. “Like… if you like any song, and if your parents…”

“Yes. _I Have Confidence_ ,” he says.

“N-naturally, huh?”

“… But _Something Good_ is sweet too. My mom would love that part with my dad around. And…”

“And…?”

He fidgets. He hovers even closer, closer than prior. “… They will kiss.”

“Oh,” I respond. O-oh. Somehow I have this idea too—a-after all he says that, and technically, we are on a date? “And what will you do?”

He pauses—but no longer fidgets. Tilting his head at me a little bit he brings his lips closer to my ears, with his eyes not leaving mine still. “... What do you want me to do?”

Again—there it is—the murderous low octave, the rich and deep voice without a trace of ferocity like the night he barked to threaten his opponents. With the lights strong or dim he is still captivating like this. Perhaps he is not the most eloquent charmer in town. Perhaps he is not even the most articulate guy I’ve known so far. Perhaps he is as quirky as a lion demon can be. But this dork cat is also—sweet …. So I take his hand. There is that appalled innocence on his face still, and perhaps it will never change. My kitty. Can I have him like this? I will be lying not to say that he’s the only person to ever turn my stomach into some roller-coaster tango like this. Will you allow me to? Will you…

The way he looks at me is so gentle, gentle… more tender than the depth of the darkest night. Slowly he lifts his hand, meeting mine which… rests on his cheek at the moment. This dim light is so solemn yet elegant at the same time. Fee and Larcei are still fawning over how magnificent Iuchar is on the stage, with Larcei shyly-but-determined telling Fee that Arthur better snatches a great shot for that one.

“… Something funny?” Ares whispers, cracking into a smile as well because I let out a soft giggle.

“It’s the Captain—no, Iuchar,” I nudge him a little bit. “He keeps looking at Larcei even from there.”

“Hmm. Something good?” he quirks an eyebrow, smiling even wider now that I catch the pun.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—that sleeveless black top makes you look badass. And um, cooler?”

“That’s not what I trained myself for, though,” he chuckles. “But thank you kindly.”

“Anytime, Sir Lion.”

“… Gorgeous dress, Miss Rabbit,” he murmurs as his arm begins to encircle my waist.

“You are supposed to be unfashionable and dumb.”

“I’m not supposed to be cool either, but here we are.”

“What do you know about dresses, anyway?” I poke his nose shyly because… because we are so close.

“The wearer.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere.”

“How about honesty?”

“Eh?!”

“Yeah?” his fingertips make their journey to trace my jawline. S-so… unexpected. I mean—I mean back then, he kind of did this. But I thought it was because… because he wanted to show me that he cared? Because the situation was perilous that it left an emotional crater in his heart too. But today is different. There’s the décor and everything that just… speaks of _momentum._ And… really, such… tender touch. Sure, his fingers are pretty calloused because of his background, but… s-so soft, so respectful and courteous that all his touches and gestures are that if I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t… I mean, Black Knight who? Black belt what? Champion which? And more than that, so I’m not… repulsive to touch?

The curtain is closing by the time he brings down his face to meet mine. I can hear Larcei semi-gasping when he sees that my face is basically cradled in Ares’ hand the way my other hand tethers well against his chest. The incoming rustling sound from my direction makes me guess that Arthur is coming back, probably making a quick run like sappers from under trenches so that he is not disturbing performers coming from the backstage or people who are about to give standing ovation—either way, it is a win-win because his method seems to be working that I can hear Fee’s delighted surprise since he returns sooner. However…

… I’m nervous, y-yeah. But I like Ares enough for this one—no, I like him _a lot_ for this one. And…

“… May I?”

“Y-you ask that a lot.”

“Company policy.”

“You kiss customers when you deliver food?”

“Are you my customer?”

“I—no, I’m cooking tonight.”

“And I’m not delivering today.”

“… Ares?”

“Yes…?”

S-so close. So close that I can taste his breath. Can he? I—don’t think he can because—because he already took all of mine away, anyway—

“Ares, s-so this is…”

“You call my name a lot as well.”

“Sssh~!”

“After you.”

“Uh—Ares?”

“Don’t tickle me, rabbit, I may bump my nose against yours again then.”

“Step up your game then.”

“That I shall.”

His lips are so close to mine now. I tilt my head, slowly closing my eyes. T-this is too… demure, perhaps? Is this too yielding? I’m not the cute type, aren’t I? And his eyes are still open. W-why? But he cups my cheek even more, it’s like—it’s like he is drawing me in. So he… wants me? Eh…

I gasp a little. The lamps around us begin to light again as the curtains are being lifted before us. One especially shines just right above us, startling us both. “Oooh my God!” Fee shouts reflexively as she leans against Arthur’s chest from there. It’s like there is that sudden realization which makes her shut her mouth at an instant. Oh, God—I’m blushing madly now. Not only that, I realize Ares dislikes the public because he does not like the way they look at him like appraising a beast, and now Iuchar and all the crew are practically standing right before us! A—and, gods, I’m boiling as well. Ah, such opportunity! The cub is more tender than a fine tenderloin steak too! Hnnn!

“Uh…” I look at Ares, then back to the stage, to my own friends…

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, slowly taking himself off me.

“I’m sorry,” I really need to find my drowned, nearly-nonexistent voice somewhere deep in my chest.

“It’s alright,” he merely smiles. “Even if you turned me down in the last minute, I wouldn’t be angry.”

“N-no?”

“No, rabbit. I will not do what you do not want me to do.”

“Oh. Um. N-nice. B-but actually…”

“Friends, friends, friends! How did you like my performance?” Iuchar grins, so satisfied and proud as he hopes off the stage, still in Captain von Trapp costume. He subtly glances at Larcei, who is still not saying anything but merely clutching her ticket tightly.

“It’s so perfect! I’m completely moved by _Something Good_ you sang,” I grin at him, raising a thumbs-up. “Oooh boy, Iuchar. With you as my partner to be Diarmuid’s backing vocal, we’ll blow the Art Night!”

“And I’ll still need raiding the library for art history,” Iuchar sighs. “But, enough of sorrow tonight! How did you like it, my dear Larcei?”

“It was…” Larcei awkwardly throws a glance at me, and I look at her back—come on, Larcei, don’t be mean this time, please, at least just let Iuchar knows that you liked everything you saw? Oh, dear Lord, he is still looking at her with such hopeful expression on his face! L-Larcei? “… Did you give me the ticket because you wanted me to review you but like… in a ‘praise me’ kind of way?”

D-did she just…

“Larcei,” Fee whispers. Seems that one is too much even for Fee. More importantly, why now? We nervously wait for Iuchar’s reaction, with me biting my lips and Fee looking like she wished she could undo what happened altogether. Ares defuses the glooming tension by extending his hand to Iuchar, however, and I wish I didn’t beam at him because we are all tense but… ahem, I did.

“Great play,” he weaves Iuchar into a friendly handshake.

“Oh, my hand is still intact,” Iuchar blurts, gulping at an instant because I glare at him. Really now?

“I don’t always fight, though,” Ares replies as I sneak a hand to gently touch his arm. “Hmmm. Perhaps I’ve been scaring you a lot. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Now _that_ makes me truly beams at him. Hnnn!

“Iuchar…” Larcei’s voice startles us. We all brace ourselves for a heartbreak or whatever it is that may happen because of her sharp remark from prior, but she exhales softly and looks Iuchar straight in the eyes. “… I was just thinking if you did that to everyone else.”

“Hmmm? No, dear Larcei! That ticket is expensive! I mean…”

“… And I’m the only person you have ever given that seat so far?”

“Huh? Yes, yes of course!” Iuchar pauses, completely dumbfounded by everything while Ares pretends to check his phone because even he seems to understand what may come up next. I poke his ribs. He quirks an eyebrow at me, but I pretend I didn’t do anything. Hehe!

“… I like it,” Larcei whispers.

“You liked the play? Oooh dear Lord, I thought you hated it! Why, dear Larcei! You can just tell me!” Iuchar breathes relief so much that it’s almost like he farts with his mouth!

“No, I like you doing that,” she smirks. “Don’t be so kind giving such VIP seat to other people, alright?”

“Huh?”

“… Come on, I’ll buy you ice cream,” Larcei simply grabs Iuchar by the arm and drags him away!

“Oh, God,” Fee mutters. “Well! I’m going home as well. How about you two?”

“I’m going home as well,” I simply nod. “By, Fee! Thanks for watching this with me—us.”

“The newlyweds send us out,” Arthur wants to grin but Ares _glares_ at him. “… Shit. Here we go again.”

I chuckle a little when Arthur gulps before leaving us alone with Fee tailing him—all smiling and happy like that. But… but that means I get to be here with Ares—well, spare some theater kids I know because of the classes we take and the stage jobs I did here and there, but Ares is an exception because he does not know like… literally, all of them. Some people I know do wave and smile at me, though, and I make sure to let them know their performance was nothing but splendid. We exchange some standard chit-chat as they begin to leave the auditorium. One of them winks at me, darting a meaningful look at Ares!

“Who is the cutie with killer biceps over there?”

“Eh,” Ares mutters awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been here before…”

I shake my head softly. What can I do to ease this self-consciousness? Ah, perhaps… perhaps the answer indeed lies in what my friends suggested prior—taking him on dates. And this way, I too, can… “It’s Ares, our senior! Landscape architecture major and…”

“And urban planning minor—“

“—And my date today?” my voice dies in my throat that I can only stare at Ares, _agape_ , while he scratches his mane. R-right. There’s a—ahem, better way to introduce him to my acquaintances, but… but there is also something more realistic and acknowledging that I can do for him. They cheekily giggle at me, throwing another bye before they truly go-byebye this evening. And this is my turn to feel so awkward—facing Ares, I can only muster an apologetic sheepish grin. “I’m sorry about that.”

He chuckles.

“Um, Ares…”

“Can I leave you in the care of my cousin? He drives too,” he smiles faintly. “There’s a place I need to visit before they close. Their office is closed on the weekends although the halls are not. I would want to take you home myself, of course—if this is a date, I’m treating you like one.”

“Don’t worry, you are already treating me well so far~!”

“I can always aim to be better, can’t I?” he smirks. Why, that sends heat wave across my cheeks. I really can’t imagine… if he was already drinking that Respect Women in the heyday before we befriended each other, how deep is the chivalry trench he can dig when he is with a date?

“Oh no, it’s okay!” I squeeze his hand. “Is it important~?”

“Yeah, well…” he is back to being the sheepish-dorkish lion cub again, so I hover closer. And seems I was right because the moment I got closer, he tones down his voice. “… I need to speak with the local karate federation committee. After the Jugdrali open kumite is over, I want to take a rank promotion test.”

“Oooh, Ares!! For the third dan, then?”

“Yes. It’s overdue. There’s nothing special about it,” he smiles faintly.

“But there is!! Please, don’t sell yourself short, Sir Lion—this is big too. You are also important! I’m so proud of you! Just hearing you will try already made me so happy!” I tackle him so I can pat his head.

“Is that so?” he murmurs. “I was thinking I'm an asshole who can’t send his date home.”

“Ssh,” gently, I enthrone my index finger on his lips. “There is that and there is this. Hehe, go get the committee, Ares~! I’ll be fine. You wouldn’t entrust me to Diarmuid if you didn’t find him reliable—ah-ah, don’t debate me, lion demon, I _know_ you. You are actually a softie who treasures his family.”

“… I can’t thank you enough, Lene.”

“Heheee, not calling me rabbit this time?” I stick my tongue at him. Can’t believe I’ll even miss that!

“There is that and there is this, no?” he smiles… sweetly. Before I get to say anything—anything at all, he courteously approaches me, scanning left and right seeing how all the stage is empty and that people are too busy getting out of the auditorium to even pay attention to other things that aren’t their business or their companion of the day. “I have time for the postponed important matter, however.” ... His voice is soft and his tone is just as equally soothing. He gently touches my face as his own dives into the side of my ear, so close yet courteous that he is while I…

He smiles again, mouthing another gratitude at me as he bides good evening. Diarmuid calls for me with Patty’s hand entangled with his while Ares simply nods as if telling me that his cousin will take care from there. He turns around, giving me a shy peek of his toned arms and back before he gets to drape his black leather jacket over his shoulder. I peek at Patty, glancing at Diarmuid’s hand clasping hers from the corner of my eyes. Patty returns my gesture by grinning so widely that it makes me blush so hard while Diarmuid is too busy fishing his car keys out of his pocket to notice.

“There, got it!” he cheerily announces. “Shall we, ladies?”

“Be a gentleman, _little brother_ ,” Ares jests, nonchalantly landing his palm over his cousin’s blond hair to ruffle it. Diarmuid purposefully makes a knightly bow at him before his silhouette completely leaves our presence altogether. His blond-haired cousin smirks, again, purposefully making a knightly bow at me like he truly is the knight some prince tasked to protect… eh, his lady.

I follow Diarmuid and Patty to the northern parking lot. Patty takes the front seat while I willingly recuse myself by taking the back passenger seat. Setting my purse and bag down over the empty space around me, my phone vibrates.

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _I enjoyed it. Thank you, Miss Rabbit._

I honestly do not realize I’ve been smiling if my phone screen does not reflect my face.

 **_dancedancerebellion  
_ ** _Drive safely, Sir Lion ^^_

It does not take long for Diarmuid’s car to take us back into the road. Neon lights and all the Friday night merriness follow us everywhere, and the car has to stop at an intersection to wait on a red light. Diarmuid decreases the volume of his radio to ask me which turn he should take to get to my apartment, and somehow I get awkward when he, out of good faith and innocence, told me that unlike Ares who has been driving me around lately, he has never been around my area that much. “Left or right?” he quickly hits the gas again when the street light changes color.

“Right, because I’m always right,” I smirk at him.

“Badumtiss!” Patty laughs cheerfully while imitating a drum sound.

“Ma’am,” Diarmuid grins back. He does take a right turn as I guided him to. A bright blue neon light from a café the car just passed by refracts on the windows where I’m sitting, and…

… Oh, my God, I’m so totally defeated. My cheeks are soft-pink red now, and I imagine they must have been crimson before we got here. Did Ares… did Ares see them as well? Oh, dear Lord. Oh, dear Ares—

—I mean—

I cup my own face, closely biting into my own knuckles because of how shy I’m feeling right now. It’s not much—I mean, I mean it wasn’t like those soap opera scenes where the couple is like, eating each other’s face the way a whale swallows a plankton colony, with… ahem, tongue and all that. A-and it’s a sweet quick one too, merely on the cheek, b-but…

… Ares kissed me.

Y-yeah, he… Ares… he kissed me!!

Suddenly I feel like yelling on top of my lungs. The image of Rolf surprisingly kissed Liesl in the original _The Sound of Music_ movie dances in my mind, and… and I really want to smugly face Liesl with my hands on the hips, telling her that—haha, Ares is not a dick like Rolf—oops, spoiler!—and that the anagram for Rolf is ROFL. And uh, Ares asked like a decent man he (always) is.

And who cares how pretty Liesl’s purplish-pink dress was. Ares kissed me. Ares kissed me—

ARES KISSED ME!!

... My lips twitch. Perhaps it’s a blessing that he did not mark me there—considering I could _die_.


	15. Darling Rabbit, Dearest Lion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, finally we are here, folks!!  
> Thank you for reading this far. Thank you for all the kudos and comments so far!
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you think~  
> I hope the ending manages to invoke that satisfying 'feel good' warmth afterwards! XX.

Wow, everything around me is as nice as the summer itself. Look at these beautiful blooming flowers! Look at the tall blue sky with warm-but-not-overwhelming breeze heading my way. This is so nice. I even feel like I can just take off my shoes to run on the green, green grass under me as I adore the flowers! And… oh, what is faintly ringing from a distance over there? Church bell? But I’m not getting married! I’m not even supposed to be getting married, there’s an art history paper I need to complete before presenting it next week. Besides, who is my spouse again? Will that person be good-looking?

… I mean. Wow, my brain keeps giving, huh.

Okay, forget about homework. Forget that the church bell is even ringing right now, because… look at all these things! Everything is so green, the sky is marvelous, and with the breeze and flowerbed, I feel so free! And with the faint bell ringing from the distance, the hills are so alive with the sound of music!

… N-now hold on a minute.

The hills are alive… with the sound of music…

“Aaaah, am I marrying Captain von Trapp?! I don’t even know him in person!!”

“Sis?”

Hnnn?

“Sis…?”

“I’m sorry, Captain—no, Georg—you are so charming, dashing, b-but I like someone else, and… n-no, Ares, I’m not interested in other guys!”

“Sis!!’

“Aaaah!!”

There is a loud thump accompanying my ungraceful journey to land on the floor. Gasping, I swat a pillow covering my face as I begin to pick myself up—only to find Coirpre looking at me, blinking confused. “Sis! You slept so soundly that I thought you were dead! Aren’t you going to Coach N’s today?”

Now I blink too. Going to… ah, right! Ares offered me to use his books for my paper! Lionheart Kitchen did not put their address on their Instagram account—only their number, so last night I asked Ares for an address and direction guidance because I really have no idea where he lives. Unless the Nordions do not live in the same building where Lionheart Kitchen is… well, either way, I don’t know his address. Between trying to keep myself awake, I read his response that he will need to do something with his father first in the morning, but he thought it would be convenient if he could take me too. I do not want him having to juggle between his father and me—I mean… t-that too, phew, imagine if he shows up at my door with his father—I’m going to be sooo nervous!

Hnnn. I hope it is not because he finds me unreliable. Why, even if he said no, that damsel in question still clouds my mind with doubt. Do I look worrying? But I’m also in and out clubs when I dance, so it’s not like I’m just that naïve, you know?

Either way, Ares said we could meet up at the grocery store where he shopped for his mother from prior, not the grocery store that is around fifteen to twenty minutes away by walking from my apartment. And to get there, the easiest way would be taking a bus from Jugdral-U. Hmmm, no problem, I can do that! W-while I’m at it, I can pretend Ares is not apologizing for not being able to pick me up because he and his father will be just around that grocery store, but when they are done, he will come to get me.

… Now I wonder, what is it that Ares needs to do with his father in the morning? Not in the nosy kind of way, but just curious, if I recall correctly that place is a mixture of urban living—like there are houses, but there are also other essential buildings like a hospital, animal clinic, and a cute bookstore with a modest dorm-like apartment where college students make up most of the tenants. I know a couple of Jugdral-U students who live there because the rent fee is a bargain even though they need to commute by bus considering the dorm is not that close from campus.

However, what Coirpre said really throws me back in action. It does not take long for me to quickly jump into the shower and raid my closet once I’m done, while still in towels. Hmmm, again my closet appears even more… interesting suddenly. Not because of a pile of some-things I dug because… where are those cute clothes again? And even so, this feels like that one time at the Maera Hall as well—I want to find something cute and nice to wear… oh, behold, the slightly below the knee-length flared retro dress! The top is just sleeveless black while the skirt part is this gorgeous white with printed black floral motifs! This is nice. This is definitely cute. Yesterday’s white puffed-sleeve dress made a nice contrast with Ares’ sleeveless top and dark blue jeans. And this one…

… T-that thought just now made me pause. Thankfully, the phone vibrates!

_Contact me once you’re there.  
Be safe, rabbit._

Nice, but… sigh. I have to let you know that I’m not so hapless-hopeless-helpless, you know?! I even kicked a vending machine, not once, but TWICE! Do you think you are the only one whose ass is bad? I’m a badass too! … Well, technically speaking your ass is not bad.

_I’m not a child!!  
… Anyway, yes X_X_

That will send my point across! … Perhaps better if I didn’t use emoji. Hashtag adulting. Hnnnh!

_A child needs my books for a college paper?_

… Darn it. I’m still unconvinced …. Oh, there’s another text?

_I’m not going on dates with a child, rabbit._

Yes, yes, you are decent—wait, that’s like, _normal_ —and a badass, I get it!

_Wait—dates?_

… I’m a super coherent foxy who is great at determining her priorities.

_Yes?  
… What do you think?_

Aaah, dammit! Waterloo! Broken arrow! Arson! Ambush—wait. WAIT!

_Worrywart. Bleeeeh._

And there you have it, folks, a testament to my greatness! In Rabbit that actually conveys a spoken seal of approval, but what does that transcend into in Lion? Oh, right—a _bleeeeh_ gesture. Sigh. He just came up with a nice offer… and I was such a great texter… not. And of course I have to show it to him—by sticking my tongue at the phone!

My phone buzzes again. I wonder what he will say… no, no, no. A _bleeeh_ it is! Sorry, but no! God, I really want to floor him now. God knows why Ares seems to get tongue-tied easily when I’m smiling and playfully winking at him, so since I do not do karate, I’ll do it until he is as stunned like a cat gets his tongue! … Do cats steal other felines’ tongues? Will they? Do they have a species allegiance to uphold?

_Sorry for making you feel like that.  
How do I make it better?_

… I’m so thankful this is done by text so he can’t see me smirking—and blushing at the same time.

* * *

 

So, here I am, glancing left and right. I had breakfast with Coirpre, who somehow grinned like a horse when I told him to just buy food or make his own lunch because I’d be at Ares’ for the art history paper. And I told him not to order from Lionheart Kitchen because I want to make it clear that there is a line between the Ares who delivers for his mother’s catering and the Ares I know as the guy from school. I mean, it’s not like those two are separate entities, but I don’t want to make Ares feel like he has to choose between treating me as someone who buys food and delivers food to rather than a friend. I’ve been poor. And despite all the improvements, I can’t say I’m past there, so I understand the sheer awkwardness one may feel when having to sell services to their own peers.

Anyway, the wind is pretty warm at around ten here. The sun begins to sting as it reigns on the clear beautiful blue sky, and I’m glad for my sleeveless shirt and wearing my hair into a ponytail again. The grocery store we are supposed to meet is located at the end of some bridge overseeing a nice river just facing a bar across the street. I wonder, does Ares live around here? To kill time, I decide to wander around the bridge. It’s summer anyway, so it’s already pretty hot. Feeling the wind sweeping my hair sounds nice and picturesque too, hehe~! My, I’m just about to study, not being in a French movie! … God, suddenly I wonder if I’m overdoing it. I mean—uh, admittedly I want to look good too but not like, in an overdressed kind of way, you know.

Regardless, the view is pretty cool from here. I can watch people under this asphalt bridge-like path because it’s an intersection with various kinds of buildings—shopping spree such as boutiques to even a beauty salon and what-have-you. I think I can even catch a glimpse of a traditional market one can reach from one of those alleys, with weekends like this giving more people to visit even more stalls as well compared to weekdays. It really is nice to be here people-watching. My phone vibrates then.

_At a nearby apothecary.  
Where are you, rabbit?_

I was just about to tell him that I’m now on the bridge looking down while waiting on him. There’s also this fenced pedestrian walk so it’s a safe place to feel the air as I’ve seen some parents taking their children for a walk as well. If Ares lives around here, then… ah, nice, I’m sure if you follow this bridge down, down, down to the market eventually you will reach the beach too. Ares, me, beach… hnnn, t-that sounds quite nice. Can I take Coirpre before this summer ends, before the air is too chilly for him? Oh, gods—where was I? Ah, yes, Ares! Um…

My phone is in my grip as I’m so ready to compose a reply text for him. But right before I could, I feel a soft touch around my waist. First I ignore it, thinking it’s just people walking back and forth and accidentally grazed me. But when it happens for the third time—at around the same location, I sharply turn around, finding a dude with sunglasses and sporty tank top grinning at me. What—the?

“Can I help you?” I raise an eyebrow, hoping those were just—accidental.

“Sad girls look picturesque in photos, but I’d rather see them smiling.”

“… Excuse me?”

“You are frowning and squinting, it’s like you are about to cry. Why, what can possibly distress such beautiful face?” he says. Dude, what? … Oh, dear God, one of those pickup artists? What even is a pickup artist—fraternization is an art in itself be it friendship or ~friendship~; this one is not!

“I’m waiting for someone—thank you, but I’m not sad. Since you are so kind to ask, though—uninvited stranger,” I _try_ to make my voice rather curt. Sigh, can’t a girl enjoy a day without parasites? What am I supposed to do in a grocery store when I don’t even feel like buying anything? And waiting at the parking lot of a grocery store? Ew, sounds like stairways to heaven! … Of getting hit on.

“That person must be a loser, letting such a beautiful view like this wasted!” he nods like he suuure knows what he is talking about. What, you think that will get me hot at your feet? How weird. Now what do I do? Ares’ number is just a tap away for me to call. Thank you for thinking I’m pretty, but I’m not a beautiful view—I am a _person_ , can I get some respect?

… Perhaps it’s time to stop being too proud? I turn around, tapping Ares’ number as my eyes begin to scan my surroundings trying to locate the apothecary Ares is supposed to be right now. Where? Around here? Or—crap, somewhere further away, which means he’s not even at the grocery store as expected?

 _Bridge—_ I tap a quick message for Ares, hoping he picks up that I’m not really fond of being here. Well, I was, until stranger-danger arrived. I hope Ares notices the tone that I… _no,_ I hope he doesn’t because I really do not want to appear like… an unreliable person. This isn’t a compliment and I’m not even proud of it, but I get this so-called advance from time to time, so on one hand I easily have a hunch when dudes mean to hit on me, while another hand, I get tired easily.

“So, are you a college student, or...” he asks again, approaching me closer.

“Hmmm. From the look of it, seems the young lady isn’t interested,” a rich voice startles me. “So why don’t you kindly take your leave?” r-right, a rich, _male_ voice—is it… sigh, I’m happy he came to my rescue, but just the morning I made it clear I disliked feeling weak…

“Ares?” Did he just say young lady? So our study-date will turn into him acknowledging his demonic identity or what, being centuries-old which explains his quirkiness and all that?

… S-study date—nooo, I have my laptop, notebook, and my paper’s draft! Hnnn!

And God, it’s not even him!! I’m so embarrassed now! It’s an older gentleman with tall posture and blond hair, well-dressed too like in one of those casual blazers Julius likes wearing and crisp canvas pants. He wears sturdy leather shoes like those for outdoor activities, so at least this is a normal human not another rich elite like Julius—hold on, does this mean that Julius dresses like an old man? But this man before me does not appear old—not like, grandpa-level old. Not even Bramsel-level old. Somehow he blinks when I mentioned Ares’ name, and that kind of… makes me even shyer. _Shit,_ I should stop associating tall blond-haired men with Ares! But really, why is this man familiar? Have we met before?

“Did you just call me Ares?” Nice Uncle-Mister looks at me intensely, like he is contemplating something.

“Y-yeah, I thought you were my friend! I’m so sorry—and um, thank you!”

“… Ah,” he serenely clasps his hands together. I hope that means my explanation is enough? “Hmmm. Is your friend called Ares? Then how about I take you to the grocery store? It’s near lunch—are you hungry? We can grab a bite until your friend comes, what do you say, Miss?”

W-what do I say, he asked? Ooomigosh. Are you kidding me? Escaping a pickup artist to run into another pickup artist? A _dandy_ pickup artist who seems to be old enough to be my uncle but young enough for a second, third marriage or something—I mean, hello, I’m nineteen going on twenty. “Yes, he is—but I’m like, nineteen going on twenty? What happened to mature older women of your… errr, game?”

“Nothing happened to them, I beg your pardon? And of course, you are. Hence the way I called you,” he responds… _innocently_ with a straight face, I must say. Why is this mannerism reminding me of—not again, not again! I told _me,_ stop associating tall blond men with Ares, even though they are handsome!

“I mean—“ I bite my lips, warily looking at the pickup artist from the corner of my eyes. Dammit, he is still here. I hope he didn’t overhear us! “Sir,” I lower my tone, “I’m not even twenty yet.”

“Yes, and?”

“Uh, shouldn’t you be pursuing women of—your league? I’m a broke-ass college kid?” I wave my hand before his face while he blinks, maintaining that straight face.

“Pursuing?” he frowns. “I am married.” What? Oooh dear Lord—what now, a _married, older_ man wants to hit on me as well? I really want to say something—no, anything perhaps, but I’m trapped in between, and like this, how can I even call Ares? Why am I always, always, like this, I…

“Wow. Then move over, old man,” the dude from prior insolently slams his shoulder against this—errr, Not-So-Nice Mister Uncle, I guess. But the blond-haired uncle simply shrugs, unperturbed by that gesture—his expression is still serene, and not even that insult managed to provoke him!

“I think you need to go,” he says, holding his ground calmly.

“Why don’t you go back to counting taxes or something?” the jerk scoffs obnoxiously. “Or you know—I can help you with a retirement plan,” he flashes a wolfish grin, blowing into his fist before lunging at the blond-haired uncle. W-what the heck? Should I run away while they are busy? Perhaps I… should?

“Ah, what a spirit. Too bad it’s not for a just cause!”

… I’m speechless.

Before my eyes, blond uncle simply tilts aside before catching the jerk, holding him with a headlock. His right arm captures the jerk around the neck while the other plants a grip on his waist, prompting escape attempts futile especially now that he casually slides his right leg around the back of the jerk’s ankle, unbalancing him. Blond uncle forces the jerk into submission at ease!

“Will you be so kind to leave the lady in peace here?” he calmly asks. “Please?”

“Ooof. I—ngh—g-got it—I can’t—uff—breathe.”

“I shall take your word for it. Thank you,” blond uncle releases him. The jerk stumbles, looking at him in panic before literally fleeing away as if he just encountered a wild beast. Blond uncle turns back his attention at me, however, and—oh, right, God—what should I do? “Grocery store?”

Aaah, nooo, free from a wolf, meeting a—uh, dandy?

“N-no, I… uh, um, my friend?”

“Oh, I’ll explain to him, don’t worry!” he nods earnestly. Explaining? What? His straight face does remind me of Ares, but… n-nooo, he isn’t Ares. N-no. Nooo—

“Lene?”

I quickly turn around. It’s Ares!! He is running towards this direction, looking sharp in another sporty sleeveless top with a tiger print on it. Just how many sleeveless tops does he have again? If he has several, how come he does not wear them often?

… Priorities, potato brain, priorities, dang it.

“Come?” the blond uncle does not seem to realize that the very person I’m waiting for is here. But I do! I mumble an unclear _no, thank you,_ as I back away from him.

“Ares!”

“Yes—rabbit, why are you so panicked?” he looks down to study my face while I nearly crash onto him. So, so tempted that I am to just drown myself in his embrace… w-will that be childish?

“Uhh. T-there is a pickup artist, a-and…”

“There is no such a thing as a pickup _artist_ ,” he cuts in, his voice is low and menacing. “I call that a creep.”

“Semantics aren’t important now, don’t you think? Glad that you are here,” I whisper to him.

“Sorry I’m late,” his tone is still low and husky, and I swear—for a moment I really thought he was going to hug me. “I was picking up my dad’s vitamin at the apothecary down there. Where is this creep?”

“Fled,” I squeeze his arm. “A blond man helped me, and…” I gesture at the opposite side, and… holy hell, yes, that uncle is still there! I nudge Ares so I can whisper to him. “T-that man over there put him in a headlock, but he wanted to take me to the grocery store. L-let’s leave? To your house?”

Ares pauses. “Headlock,” he says like contemplating something serious. Well, perhaps it is. He is still an alleged demon after all. “Tall blond uncle with arm bar submission… like a lion?” suddenly he chuckles?

Huh? “Y-yes? Lion, huh… come to think of it, he kind of reminds me of you! But I assure you, he and you do not compare. Like, he’s handsome too, but I think you are better. Besides, I’m not interested in older men, come on, not you too. Hnnn. I mean—!”

“… Not interested in… _other men_?”

“Older!” my cheeks are burning crisp now. … But that can work as well, _brazenly_ speaking, Sir Lion…

“I’m joking, rabbit,” the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Oh, so you joked about me being interested in other men as well?” I yank his mullet. Priorities!

“Ah, did I?” he chuckles before castrating a few octaves there. “… Are you?”

“Hnnn. Priorities!!” that really, really earned a second mullet-yanking from me. Really now, Ares? Why is he so calm, the blond uncle appeared to be either so out of this world considering he seemed to be genuinely surprised by all the things I tried telling him. H-he couldn’t be pretending he was, right?

“Right, right. This is my priority, you are safe,” suddenly he gently takes me, ushering us to approach the tall blond uncle! W-what? Ares, did you not hear what I said? “Seems you just met my father.”

“Father?” I look at him and then the tall blond uncle—again. Just then tall blond uncle turns around. The corner of his mouth twitches a little bit and that way, I get to take a good look at him for the first time since I was too surprised by everything else that I wanted to find Ares quickly. “Aaah, for real?!”

Tall blond uncle smiles serenely at me one more time. He really is tall, probably a few centimeters taller than Ares. He boasts the same shiny lustrous blond hair like Ares too, only that his mane is worn in such sharper, shapey haircut compared to Ares’. And… colors! Yes, if anything, he surely dresses more fashionably compared to his son, hehehe~! But now I understand why he is such a lion cub, with that serene yet commanding presence, tall posture and blond hair, this is the—uh, original lion?

“Yeah. Got your vitamins, Dad,” Ares approaches his father. “And this is Lene I’m meeting today.”

“Uh, h-hello, Mr. Nordion,” I wave at him awkwardly. “Uh—sorry for… I mean, I didn’t know…” God, now I really wish I would have jumped off this bridge to the small canal down there! I-it truly is his father!!

“I helped, but seems I scared off the young lady,” Ares’ father extends his hand at me for a handshake as his gentle chuckles come out. “It’s okay. You did the right thing.”

I steal a glance at Ares. Oh, so this is how he got his Respect Women juice genetics? I can only nod, scratching my head as we walk down the bridge, just steps away where Mr. Nordion parked the car. He smiles, gesturing at his son to load himself into the passenger seat with me instead of leaving me alone there, to which Ares seems happily obliging, considering he also smiles at me as he opens the door for me to get inside. “I got my draft and everything in case you want to proofread my references,” I tell Ares as Mr. Nordion starts the car. “I have my laptop too so I can edit accordingly.”

“And Coirpre?” Ares smirks. “I imagine weekend like this he’d love to use that.”

“He’s playing with Ced and Tinny,” I reassure him. “Fee and Arthur will be with them.”

“My son told me you are living alone with a younger brother?” Ares’ father chimes in as he takes a turn.

“Um—y-yes, eh—Sir,” I nod sheepishly. “We manage somehow. And he’s a good kid.”

“That’s a big responsibility,” he tilts his head to nod back at me as Ares leans forward to hand the plastic bag from the apothecary to his father. Why, I’m so embarrassed. But Ares’ father seems to be perceptive enough to notice my silence—either that or he too has lion eyes—because he does not let me delve in thoughts. “And I mean it in a good way. It is brave of you.”

… Oh, God? “No, Sir,” my voice softens a little. “It’s exactly because I have Coirpre that I am brave.”

The older Nordion glances at Ares, who somehow looks… what, smug? It’s almost like he harbors that _soaring_ feeling which he communicates to me with his eyes. Is he… proud of me? Oooh my God. It’s like despite his father’s presence and everything, he wants to tell him that I’m awesome instead! P-please be wrong, though, perhaps it’s just me being selfish. Perhaps it’s my pride.

… But if it’s right, then the more reason to like him…

Ares’ father engages me in simple chit-chats as he keeps driving. We are now at the foot of that bridge as he takes detour, passing the market which I saw from above prior. The car quietly took us sailing a few alleys until we are on an open space again, this time being a simple, green neighborhood with smooth driveways and several of the cars being parked at unfenced lawns. The chit-chat brings me to get to know Mr. Nordion better—or perhaps, if he is curious about me, it’s like he is introducing himself a little bit like he is half-apologizing, half-explaining the situation since I met him like that. He says every weekend Ares drives him for a physiotherapy session at a hospital. They were actually done since his appointment was early, and the plan was picking up some groceries for the ever-productive Lionheart Kitchen, buying in bulk since the car can carry more than what Ares’ beloved bike does. According to him, Ares’ mother does not take new orders in Saturdays so she can concentrate on making the already-ordered dishes and planning the menu Lionheart Kitchen will run on for the next week.

“My wife is a hard worker, won’t stop until she ensures everything is in their prime quality even though her dishes never failed me,” he says in such warm tone that I really wish I could tackle him into a hug. Was my father proud of my mother the way Mr. Nordion praised his wife…? “I have a dad-son date with Ares every Saturday. Did he ever tell you that I…”

“If you mean…” uh-oh, how do I proceed from here? “Um. I hope your neck feels better, Sir.”

“Ah, it’s alright. No need to be so formal with me,” he chuckles in the same manner Ares does. “And thank you. I do feel much better. Two sessions left until everything is complete,” Mr. Nordion hits the brake when we pull into a driveway. Ares gets out first and holds the door open for me, and I am looking at the cutest driveway I’ve ever seen in my life—the sides are decorated with small blooming flowers planted right on the soil not on the pot. This driveway screams… life, and this life is so beautiful too. I’ve been gazing at these flowers that I didn’t realize Ares is looking at me.

“Oh, sorry,” I grin at him. “These are gorgeous~!”

“Then you need to meet my mom to let her know,” he smiles a little. “Dad?”

“I’m taking this one to the garage, you get your lady… friend inside first!”

“God,” he mutters, while I get tongue-tied. Who would have thought that the older lion is also mischievous like that? Still, I follow him as he diverts his steps inside. “Mom, I’m home.”

I glance around. Oooh, what is this _godly_ smell? Fabulous, have I died and landed in culinary heaven? Oooh, God, I’m practically beaming now! I’m so close to Lionheart Kitchen’s… ahem, _kitchen_ , and just like in Master Cakes, I really, really, am brimming with joy. This is a different kind of kitchen cooking different kind of food, but even so, everything is still so magnificent. All this tasteful aroma fondling my nostrils, filling my senses with… okay, as cheesy as it sounds, heaven! Aaah, the beautiful smell of black pepper! The magnificence of roasted meat fresh from the oven! Ah, the smell of garlic! And what spices she even use for this one, would she mind sharing tips with me?

“You seem so ready,” Ares chuckles, gently patting me.

“I do,” I sheepishly grin at him. “But like, I’m so nervous. It’s the great Grahnye Nordion I’m seeing.”

The front door opening and closing behind me announces the arrival of the Nordion senior. Ares’ father sets his keys on the counter, looking… I don’t know—he has that subtle mischievous air around him which I kind of detect, after being acquainted with Ares so far because they both exude leonine energy, but his face is still calm as always! W-wew, he is powerful. And leonine too. And fun! God—t-that can’t be, right? I can’t possibly start liking Ares’ parents as well?

Heh, never mind. After all, it’s not like I like them the way I like their son!

… N-now hold on…

“Eldie?” a voice calls from the inside. It’s a woman’s voice—cheerful with that mellow, smokey undertone in it like a serene yet tantalizing call which will do greatly in radios. Someone approaches our direction—her steps are small and rather slow, but her expression is warm that she is almost beaming just by saying the name she just called. As she walks to the foyer, I’m looking at her—beautiful wavy brown hair with side curls rolled into a simple bun, secured with a red ribbon. She is taller than me, perhaps only slightly shorter than Altena—but considering how tall Ares’ father is, now that he is back with us I’m drowned.

“We’re home, darling,” the older Nordion lands a quick kiss on her lips. “And this is a guest.”

“Uh—hello,” I try to calm my nervousness as I shake her hand. “I’m Lene, Ma’am, I’m Ares’…”

“Oooh!” she gasps and… b-beams at me? “My grocery store savior and the girl with kickass pudding?”

“K-kickass? So you _truly_ liked them?”

“Why, yes, of course. God, you didn’t know how my husband and this dumb cub of mine _fought_ for the last slice? And I really must thank you, even someone who runs a catering doesn’t know everything~ why, thank you again, dear. Come here, let me see you… my, not only nice, you are so pretty as well! How long have you known Ares? Is he treating you well so far? I hope he is! So…”

“Mom.”

I bulge my eyes when she casually _pinches_ Ares’ cheek! Wow, she is formidable. The original lion tamer! “Ah, he is a shy! Sorry for being too enthusiastic, but Ares never brought a friend home before, so…”

“… Mom.”

“Especially a lady,” Mr. Nordion cuts in. “I hope we can make your first visit comfortable enough.”

“Dad…” Ares sighs, facepalming so hard that his exasperated demeanor invites my small smile.

“Your parents are nice,” chuckling, I follow him as he leads me to his room. He scratches his head again, unable to hide how embarrassed he is because of his parents’… errr, ecstatic enthusiasm greeting me like that. I hope they truly like me, or at least don’t mind me being here in their house because… as much as I feel kind of honored knowing I’m the first person Ares ever brought home, at the same time it makes me sad. Ah, perhaps Ares has always been a loner… I wonder, is he lonely? Is he sad too?

* * *

 

The Nordion family home is hands-down, beautiful. It really exudes an antique beauty vibe, because first thing first, the house does not have a second floor, so everything is spread around the first floor. They carpeted the living room, but from what I’ve seen so far except the kitchen most of the materials used for the floor is polished wood, giving a vibrant elegant atmosphere. I imagine it will be warm during winter. The kitchen with the family’s shared bathroom are located at the further end of the house, and despite Lionheart Kitchen’s modest-size catering business, their kitchen is probably the second largest room in the entire house after the spacious living room where the Nordions seem to center their activities—I see bookshelves, TV, cordless phone on the wall conveniently can be reached from the kitchen as well. Perhaps the area had dividers but they took them off when furnishing the house. Their spacious living room becomes a center of the house, and a step further inside gives a peek of a small but cozy dining room.

Regardless, there are flowers in every vase! This feels so home-y even though the kitchen runs nonstop. Like, you would imagine more or less things may get hectic with fresh homemade foods being laid out on the pantry counter and whatnot, but the flowers, the décors, the neatly-arranged things tone down the busy, if not stressful kitchen atmosphere. Their backyard can be reached from the kitchen as well, and I can smell flower-fragrant detergent from the laundry they are drying at said backyard as I’m walking closer. Ares takes me to a small path diagonally squeezed between the dining room and living room, fenced with a curtain. I can see three closed doors arranged like a dorm corridor around it, and he stops before one of the doors—it’s painted in black as a base color with gold vegetal motifs.

“Your room?” I ask quietly. I can’t believe I made it here. I can’t believe he truly trusts me this far…

“Yeah,” he says, opening the door. “My dad got this house because he thinks having a single-story house will not burden my mom’s frail body and weak heart too much since she won’t be running up and down staircases. Then he had doors painted differently to note whose room it is… there’s only three of us here, and that one is a guest room,” he says. “The master bedroom for my parents is there, though.”

I look at the room located at the end of the corridor, smiling. “I’m here to study and borrow your books, not investigating your house.”

“I told you I’d decide whose questions I’d answer,” he smirks, earning a mullet-yanking from me. “Here we are. The room is so simple though—I imagine it’s less pretty than yours.”

Ares gets inside first with me following him. He opens a quadrant window, letting fresh air and breeze coming in. It does not really show right now, but considering where the window faces, perhaps this is how he got that beautiful sunset photo he sent me on Instagram. “Eh—“ he scratches his head again. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back with other things.”

“No, no, it’s okay~! I’m fine to just study as well!”

“Well, my parents are right, though. I’ve never had a visitor,” he says. “The books are over there, feel free to take a look at my shelves. I’ve got spreadsheets in the drawers too if they can be any use for you.”

He walks out of the room, leaving me alone to appraise everything inside. My God, even his bed cover is black. Eh, but nice, since not many people even _dared_ to do that… I hope it’s not because he’s too lazy to clean, though, eheh~! Oh, the shelves are pretty packed. He didn’t strike me as someone who is into reading, and based on what he said himself, indeed he likes doing more than reading. But still, the books show that at least he’s serious and not some delinquent who just runs around initiating random fights. Somehow I want to smile—here, he is bare. I mean—I can see the person he truly is. Not that I’m saying he has been being dishonest with me, but like… I get a glimpse of the Ares within by looking at this room. The Ares people does not know; the Ares with hobbies and interests. I’m chuckling softly upon noticing there are martial art books in the shelves—Bruce Lee’s treatises, classical warfare books, some old gaming magazines… ah, so he likes retro things as well? How endearing. It’s kind of cute, I’m not surprised! There are some interior magazines, architecture bulletins… ah, the book he bought when we took the kids to Miletos is on his bed stand! Wow, he covered it neatly too like he really treasures it!

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” his voice startles me that I turn around. Huh, he got me a coffee table? Yeah, phew, he carries that wooden low-leg table like it’s a piece of feather or something. Sometimes I forget that he is still a lion demon, after all. But not only that—he also holds something else in the crook of his arm… a cushion? Fluffy pink comfortable-looking rounded cushion too!

“Aww, very kind of you, but I don’t want to trouble you as much~!” I quickly take the cushion from him to help. He sets the table down, and I put the cushion down as well. This side of the bed is carpeted with something like a… “H-hold on. This feels like a mat. No, mattress. No, no, what is this—familiar…”

“Oh,” he fidgets awkwardly. “Indeed. Why waste more space—makes floor-sitting nicer and I can exercise too. But I figured you’d feel more comfortable with this one…” he points at the cushion.

I look at him. He ruffles his own mane like truly wondering where he went wrong for the hundredth time. My smile blossoms without my interference this time. He really is trying, I thought—he really wants to make me feel comfortable even if it means doing everything in his own endearing, dorkish quirky way. Ah, I’m touched. Ares is always like that… “It’s alright,” I squeeze his arm. “It really is. Thank you~!”

“You are smiling again…” he sighs as I smooth up my dress before sitting down. The cushion really is so nice to sit on! And don’t tell him this, alright—I actually really like it, the color is so sweet too!

“Heheee. I’m just appreciating a generous host, you know~? Come on, come on, sit down~!”

“If only that already makes you this sweet, I can’t imagine if you are serious being sweet,” he grumbles. Hnnn~? What? I didn’t really catch that, but… haha, why is he blushing? I can’t be mistaken—his face is red! But he already faces his shelves to take out a few books to show me. Sigh, I can’t poke him. “Here you go. Let’s start from here and see if you can find anything interesting. Two of these are handbooks and another two are landscape architecture 101, which should give you a glimpse of history of the field and how designing landscape became its own art as well as a field of expertise. If you want to take them home, fine with me—those are…”

“Beginner’s guide,” I smirk.

“Well—yeah,” he nods. “I mean no disrespect…”

“I’m not offended~! Really though, you should give yourself more credit!” I wink at him. “Can I read?”

“Sure…”

“Ahaaa~ there it is, you are blushing again~!”

“… I’m not.”

“Now you are sulking…”

“I am not.”

“Hnnn. Sullen cat!”

“… For the sake of my humanity, please don’t pout.”

“You are a lion demon. Since when did you know humanity?”

“… Since you kept smiling like that and—“

“Eh~?”

“… Rabbit.”

“Hmmm~?”

“Lene—“

“Yes, Ares, meow~?”

“… L-let’s begin studying,” he lays out a pictorial book before me, and… yes, studying mode activated! I turn on my laptop and giving him my printed drafts with Professor Forseti’s notes on the papers. He really takes time to read what I wrote, and then discussed Forseti’s points with me. It really feels like a tutoring session—which should be the point, but rather than that, it feels like brainstorming more that discussing ideas with him is fun and engaging.

“Honestly, I really like this paper,” he smiles faintly. “I’m sure Forseti thought the same. You are smart.”

“Awh, now you complimented me~!”

“And then you are smiling at me…” he points at my face, chuckling. “Old habit dies hard, rabbit?”

“Hnnn. What habit?”

“I wonder,” he averts his eyes from mine a little bit. “Perhaps being… cute?”

Hnnn? Is he sure he isn’t talking about himself? Because honestly, everything he does is considerate—and with it, endearing as well. And have I ever said that he is so cute while being like this? Ah, cute lion. I uh—I wonder, the theater, and then… t-then…. I peek at him as I begin editing my paper. He is rereading an old notebook, marking some points with a pencil to show me things. His voice is still as it is—deep and rich as always as he guides me through the bullet points he created to summarize what his courses and literature reviews taught him about. He also pointed out some historical figures—names besides de Valenciennes who made landscape architecture a prominent figure not just as an art, but also an actual field worth exploring like civil engineering and so forth. He also throws a few more names—landscape artists, which I then look up on Google. I enjoy showing him examples of these artworks because he can apply those theories to analyze the picture—the landscape specifically, from the point of a builder and architect; just the concrete bullet points I need besides wasting my papers blabbering on the making of the art itself.

“Like this,” he takes his pictorial book with a powerful eraser like those designers use when they draw. Before long his pencil dances on the book, separating the image into these fractions of points—like terrain analysis, like why they made a dome instead of square-something building, why it was placed there and not elsewhere and I type as fast as I can while he speaks. Although… I wish I could… eh, concentrate more rather than… n-noticing that how nice his voice sounds, being this close and with him practically speaking in a low tone since nobody else but us is here. W-well, with his family, but you know…

“Can you repeat?” I feel rather coy for asking, but—but at least half of this request is honest.

“Sure…” wew, he erases all the lines he has drawn and truly repeats everything from zero! E-eh, still, thanks to him, I got to learn new perspectives and understand interesting new point of views! … B-but he looks kind of cool this way and somehow I need to look… somewhere else.

I tell him I’m going to summarize everything we have discussed so far, making bullet points to practice presenting the paper with him as my audience. He merely agrees, willingly stepping aside to give more room for me. In silence he picks up a Bruce Lee book from one of the shelves, and none of us says anything as I type while he reads. Strange, I feel so at peace and productive. Like, I don’t feel awkward or weird since my host practically has his full attention on the book as if I’m ignored—instead, this feels nice and fine. Like I know I can spend time with Ares without doing anything—I mean, without having to talk to each other; just being in each other’s presence like this feels enriching… not only that, never once he appeared to be annoyed because I didn’t get what he was saying—he simply repeated until I understood, all the while without making “Actually…” comment. Why, he is a nice guy. I…

… Oh, no. Suddenly this isn’t easy anymore. I like this. I like everything. I like the time I spent with him so far. I like him—a-and perhaps… perhaps I like him… way too much than what I predicted I would…?

I stretch my arms to take a break, stealing a glance at Ares. He catches my eyes, sending a faint smile at me whilst lowering the book he is reading. “You worked hard.”

“I’m not done yet,” I shake my head. “But soon you’ll get to pretend being Professor Forseti.”

“I’ll watch you as me,” he replies calmly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I thought this paper was badass.”

“Nooo. I want you to watch me as Forseti!” I almost yelled—somehow. “I-if you watch me as you, then…” _Then I can’t concentrate_ , I thought, looking into those sharp leonine eyes of his. Aaah—

Ares puts down his book, sighing. I thought he was frustrated or thinking of me as weird, b-but—“Lene, I’m not a professor,” he says, with the kind of tone that is firm yet kind at the same time. “And I don’t want to talk through my ass behaving like one. All I can offer you is an architect’s perspective.”

“T-then that is fine. Alright, here goes! I’ll look at your bed instead of you so I won’t get nervous—“

“A lady of the stages gets nervous by one audience?” he quirks an eyebrow. Dammit, smirking now?

“An architect appraises a dancer?” huffing, I hope my counter is suave enough.

“You said I’m Forseti. Then hit the stage,” he grins.

“Fool, Forseti isn’t handsome with tantalizing vocal chords—I mean, shut up, you lion demon!”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Don’t just hum, dangerous!”

“Hmmm?”

He casually leans against the bed. There’s a clanking sound with something peeking from his bed post which piques my attention—right when I was contemplating whether to smack him or not. “Eh—Ares?”

“Yes?”

... How does one _clothe_ another person’s voice? N-never mind. “There’s like—chains? On your bed? I mean…” I grab the _thing_ out of reflex, and… “… Nunchucks?!” I look at it again—it truly is a pair of nunchucks! Actual, real nunchucks made of sturdy, hard wood connected with chains reigning in my grip as if laughing at me! “Y-you… You carry weapons to your bed? … No. You keep _weapons_ in your room?”

“Oh, there it is,” he mutters… innocently. “Eh—yes? You don’t?”

“Of course not!” I really, truly, yank his mullet this time. Seriously? “… Are there anything else?”

“Um. Yes,” he scratches his head sheepishly, gesturing me to follow him. He walks me to the other side of the bed, feeling around a certain location, and… “I keep my pair of tonfa here too.” Sturdy paneled wooden sticks around the length of a forearm say hi right at my face. And it doesn’t stop there—he walks up to his closet, revealing a wooden long stick inside! “And—more. Traditional bo stick for strength training. Okinawan karate practitioners like me usually call it kun…”

… Oh God. He really is seriously presenting them to me. And his expression too—so innocent, so pure that I can’t help but giggling a little bit. How endearing. How cute. Such a dork big cat…

As if realizing I’ve only been standing without saying anything—perhaps the unmasked _Um WHAT?_ expression I’m clearly wearing right now, he stops to ponder around. Yeah, perhaps he is just quirky like that. But he is so honest and passionate, and that… “I see,” I wonder if my voice comes out way too soft that it will be too faint for him to hear.

“I thought you are seriously asking,” he blurts out innocently. “I mean… ah, right. Sorry, I…”

“It’s alright. Really, it is alright. It’s your room anyway~!” I can’t help but smiling as well. “Honestly, I’m honored you showed me these things. Thank you for trusting me enough that I could be here with you!”

“Oh,” he says quietly.

I wonder if it was the blazing sun from the outside blinding him, but he nearly dropped the nunchucks he is meant to return to their initial place. I bend down to pick them up, and he clears his throat. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I poke his ribs.

“… You are nice,” suddenly he responds. “What is it that I did so that you…”

“Ssh,” I don’t know where I got this idea, but—but I gently tick his lips. Humming softly, my voice comes out, narrating _Something Good_ from _The Sounds of Music_. “Perhaps I had a wicked childhood…”

He looks at me. It’s back—the sweet faint smile on his lips; the way the corner of his mouth twitches in a way which… admittedly, kind of drives me crazy. “… I can’t sing, rabbit.”

“Perhaps I had a miserable youth…”

He looks at me again. “… But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past—“

“… There must have been a moment of truth,” giggling, I finish the line, returning to the fluffy, cozy pink cushion he set before the table for me. I can’t continue singing it—because… because the lyrics are…. Ares contemplates the nunchucks in his hand, as if he just got an official approval to hold them in the open. “It’s okay,” I repeat, smiling wider when he gasps a little as I nudge him. “Perhaps you can tell me about these two as well, what do you think~? Can you? I thought karate didn’t do weapons, you see…”

“Oh, we do. It’s just Okinawan karate like my school tends to use these more often—it’s the original, anyway, and traditional training often emphasized on building up strength where bare-handed fighting was meant to be as deadly and as applicable at the battlefield. Nunchucks also differ per person—like, whether you have slippery hands, if you like rope or chain—I mean…” he pauses a little bit, perhaps realizing that it might have come out weird. But I keep smiling at him to urge him to continue, so he does. “… Eh. And the weight—like. Combat nunchucks are slightly heavier and sturdier that they are usually connected with chains instead of ropes. And if with ropes, it has to be longer—around fourteen centimeters or so for flexibility of the swinging.”

“Oooh, show me~?”

“No, I…”

“It’s okay~! I know you are good. You won’t keep them if you can’t use them, right~?”

“… If you said so,” he is just about to continue, when we hear a faint knock. Somehow we nearly gasp. And feeling so shy without even knowing why. It’s just Nunchucks! And I liked _The Sound of Music_ , what’s the problem?! But—oh God, Ares’ mother stands _stunned_ at the threshold with a tray.

“Ares?”

“Mom?” this lion cub mutters, looking equally appalled. “Oh, let me help you with that.”

“Sure,” she says, letting Ares take over from there. “Do you like tea, dear? I should have brought this soon, but my beef stew required my attention. I can’t make pastries like Lachesis, so I hope you love roasted peanuts as the snacks?”

“Oh, it’s okay~!” I smile at her. “Ares helped me with my paper. It’s so nice studying with him!”

“… She did that again, Mom,” somehow he smiles. “This little rabbit is always like that—nice and kind.”

“As if you are not, you lion demon. Thanks to you, I learned a lot!”

“It’s your hard work and dedication, rabbit.”

“Well, sorry to rain on your parade, but you are nicer and kinder, period!”

“No.”

“Ah, stubborn! Fight me!”

“… No?”

“Oh, really?! No, you said? Hnnn! How about I kick you so hard with _praises_ until you _cry_?” I glare at him.

“I see! Prepare to lose then—I’ll _slam-_ compliment you so well,” he smirks mischievously.

… And only then we realized his mom is still here! Oh—dear Lord, I’m so thrown in between—either I eat this laptop as a whole or wanting to smack Ares with those nunchucks myself, either way his mother appears so amazed like that! Oh, nooo. My face goes red at an instant! P-perhaps we are too noisy? Ares stops doing whatever he is, shyly glancing at his mother who simply smiles like she is holding back laughter. “Would you care for lunch, dear? This will be here when you return,” she gestures back at the tea and snack she carried into her son’s room. “And perhaps you can take the stew for me, my cub.”

“Sure,” Ares obediently gets up and darts his paces back to the kitchen.

Grahnye Nordion takes out the plates from a cabinet nearby and begins to set it on the table. I politely ask if I could help her with anything, but she seems to be pretty determined that I get to sit nicely without breaking a sweat, since—according to her—I’m the guest so I should be the one that is served instead. After convincing her to help, she finally gives in, letting me arranging cutleries with a water pitcher I gladly take to the table as to not burden her frail body. There is this peeking feeling from deep inside my chest somehow—that it feels like helping a _mother_ with her chores, and considering mine is not with us, I... “Um, I’m sorry, but I thought...” I set the pink cushion Ares brought for me on one of the chairs where Mrs. Nordion seated herself. She makes a satisfied sigh when I lay it behind her back, and her smile alone is enough to make me feel glad that the extra cushion makes her comfortable.

“Thank you,” she mutters softly, squeezing my hand. “You are kind.”

“Oh, n-no, actually, Ares is considerate too,” I scratch my head, suddenly feeling so awkward because she praised me. As if being commanded to do the same thing at the same time we crane our neck to look into the kitchen, finding Ares’ figure retrieving a sizzling pot from the stove. Both his mother and I smile with a small giggle when he comes back with a red burst on his face, looking incredibly shy because his mother has been looking at him with such adoring look like that. Ares takes out some fruit slices from the fridge before disappearing to call his father to join us.

“I must thank you,” Mrs. Nordion sighs with such contended expression on her face the moment her cub disappears from the dining room. “It’s been a long time since he appeared so happy and free like that... no, dear, I’m not complaining. If anything, it seems you brought back what was lost. I don’t know how much he told you about himself—or us, or the accident, but...” she whispers, looking proud but sad at the same time. “... It’s a delight to see him blossoming as a reliable young man, but sometimes I miss that little Ares who would ask for hugs telling me how scared he was. At least he would tell me.”

My mind travels back to what Ares told me at the Yied. How he would work as a bouncer, fighting at the streets often and feeling angrier than angry because of everything which befell his family—fearing his father would not make it at the hospital bed, feeling so helpless when her mother overworked herself, having to sneak out and in so his mother did not know he was basically being a henchman at night, betraying all the noble principles tied into the core teaching of his father, feeling like he went against everything that was just and good instead for exploiting the prowess and the virtue of his black belt...

“I believe he’s still the same inside,” I blurt out of reflex. “He is so kind and I believe in him~!”

She smiles at me, gesturing me to come with her—without making a sound. When I follow her, she takes something out of a locked cabinet in the living room, laying it before me to see...

A photo album.

Right, a photo album. She gently opens page after page, and I have to contain my squeal because... because this album is full of photos of little Ares! AAA—ahem! Mrs. Nordion points out at several photos, her tender voice serenades me as we share smiles and chuckles navigating through them all—there’s one when Ares won his first medal, she said; there is also one when the cub spilled all the flour onto the counter for trying to help mommy cooking for the first time. The moment when little Ares was nothing but a happy cub climbing on daddy’s shoulders looking all cheery and carefree like that—or another as he stood among a group of kids with a small black backpack with a Bad Badtz Maru print on it, looking sullen with puffy eyes. “Ah, that’s..." I instantly recognize him even though he is not the only blond kid in the group! And now pointing at that grumbling kid in the presence of his mother, I feel a bit shy.

“That was before my husband’s deployment,” Mrs. Nordion mutters softly. Oh, right, Ares told me his father is a combat veteran... “Ares couldn’t keep crying. First day at school, he was six and his father left like that. But when we dropped him at school, somehow he managed...” she flips another page. There is one when he graduated middle school, one with him getting his black belt for the first time, hugging his wheel-chaired mother. He looked so happy, just... so, so happy that there is no single trace of a brooding lion on his face whatsoever. Mrs. Nordion looks where my gaze is fixed on, and she smiles as well. “I just got out of the hospital. Could barely walk that they fixed me like that. He and Diarmuid carried me all the way to the hall so I could watch them taking the test—it was blue for Diarmuid, black for him... his father was on the way home from the last deployment he was sent to and we only had Finn with us.”

“Grahnye?” a voice calls from the outside. “Will you not eat lunch with me?”

“Ah, right! Just a minute, Eldie!” Mrs. Nordion shouts from the sofa she sits in with me. She returns her attention to me while I keep looking at that black belt photo. Ares was so lively. How old was he there again... sixteen? If only he was always this happy and carefree. If only life did not rob that innocence from him... “It was scary,” Mrs. Nordion’s voice startles me a bit. “I mean—I don’t think it’s all roses and perfumes, seeing my son, my nephew... people I treasure—getting hit and breaking boards. But what choice did I have? Still, I’m the mother, so...” she chuckles faintly.

“Ares seems to think that hiding pain does everyone a favor, when...” again, I blurt out of reflex. Mrs. Nordion nods knowingly, however, like she truly understands what I’m trying to say even though I haven’t. Well, she is his mother, after all... in silence she guides me through the other photos—like one when they took a candid photo of him getting Mystletainn for the first time—still looking so rough and coarse and then another candid when he had it fully furnished and repaired months later. But more importantly, those tidbits of the little cub are cute and endearing... not only because he looked so cute like a little prince in illustrated fairytale books with small curly blond locks like that, but also because...

“He is always like that,” Mrs. Nordion finally breaks her silence, pointing at a messily-crying boy who drowns himself in her embrace more than a decade ago. “His father meant to take the photo of their first training, but he slipped, sprained his ankle and bumped hard on the ground. But no matter what he would always get up and tried again. At least those nights are over now. I had a hunch he worked shady jobs—those cuts, bruises in many nights when he left as I lay awake sick—each time he returned he looked like he wanted to cry but could not. As a mother, I’m proud of my son, but sometimes...”

“I guess one of the things we can do to help him is by trusting him,” I whisper. I can sense her eyes on me, so perhaps I should explain? “I’ll make sure to tell him to take care of himself too~! And I know he will, knowing there’s a loving mother waiting on him to come home!”

“... Hmm,” suddenly she places a hand on mine, smiling... so brightly. “I guess I’ll leave him in your care.”

Hnnn? Why is she looking at me like she owes me her life? I didn’t do anything special! I think if one is to take a good look at Ares, they will see that Ares has always been like that. Yeah, like what Mrs. N said! And just because he appears to be so, doesn’t mean he is a Superman—no, this is still a human being we are talking about, and he gets hurt and sad like everyone else even if he silences all his emotions. Ah, I feel so touched by her gesture. It’s like she truly trusted me! ... Did she? W-what an honor. Why do I feel like hugging her? It must be nice to have a mother nearby who cares for you like that...

I was just about to comment on her response when we hear a thudding sound from the kitchen. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Nordion heard that too, because like me she jolted and went alert—followed by the sound of chair being moved. Perhaps Mr. Nordion is equally alarmed? Nevertheless, I quickly give my hand to help Mrs. Nordion standing. “I’ll check~! Please don’t force yourself!” I quickly tell her before speeding to the kitchen. When I get there, I can see Ares pressing his thumb with a finger. Blood dripping out into a sink from a slight cut, and I can see a meat cleaver on the floor. Oh—God? “Ares?”

“... I was careless,” he turns around, trying to smile at me. “Just a scratch.”

I shake my head.

“Really, though. It’s nothing. With a spit I’ll be okay,” he jests.

I pick up the knife from the floor, putting it in the sink to wash it—in seconds. “Come on,” I whisper to him. “Where did your family put the first aid box?”

“In the bathroom. Why?” he asks.

“Because I want to borrow it. Show me the way~!” smiling, I simply take his arm out of reflex like what I usually do so far, while Mr. Nordion _stares_ at us. Mrs. Nordion, however, has that understanding expression again on her face as she catches up with us at the pantry.

“Oh, alright...” Ares simply mutters innocently, letting me dragging him around as always. We are still throwing jests and dueling wits even after loading into the bathroom, again with Ares still trying to convince me to leave the cut be. Out of reflex I yank his mullet just like how we typically proceed, and he cackles, patting my head as I lose my voice for a couple of minutes because his curious parents, who have been peeking from the outside, exchange glances with Mrs. Nordion giggling and her leonine husband nodding with a satisfied-yet-calm expression as if he just discovered something important. Hnnn? Are we too noisy again? Should I wrestle Ares so he won’t have the chance to debate me?

Nevertheless, now with Ares’ thumb being nicely bandaged we resume eating lunch! Oooh, the nicely fragrant-something turns out to be the beef stew Mrs. Nordion talked about! She scooped a generous serving onto my plate with a smile that never left her face to begin with. Ares, who is taking some baked potatoes into his own plate, glances at mine. “I’ll finish what you cannot.”

“Um—“ somehow I feel so shy when Mr. Nordion coughs.

“Ah, pepper...”

“Eh—here, Sir?” out of reflex I pass him the bottle. Why, this is a familiar scene. Ares ate at my house prior. And I’m used to bringing Coirpre condiments as well, why is he exchanging glances with his wife again?

“Thank you. Oh...”

“Hnnn? Ah, y-yes! I brought the salt container for you as well. Convenient~! Eh—tissue?”

“... I see,” Mr. Nordion curves his lips so suddenly. “I thank you, Lene.”

Wew, that’s the first time he addressed me like that! “Ah—yes! Um, roger?”

“My,” he chuckles, returning my military salute. “Granting permission to demolish the lunch, private.”

Everything feels so merry after—I still can’t believe I’m eating lunch with the Nordions—as their—okay, their son’s guest and not a customer of Lionheart Kitchen. And the stew is glorious too! Combination of sweet-spicy tender beef cuts and the unique touch of oyster sauce really, really made me wonder if I had died and went to food heaven instead. The baked potato tasted so rich and savory—the sausage stuffing is so unexpected too, but hey, they worked! I wish I wouldn’t be so red-faced considering Ares blurted out to me to eat plenty while telling his parents that the breakfast and curry rice I made floored him so well. I never meant to act sweet to begin with, b-but... it’s so nice being recognized like that. And not because of the cooking itself or how supposedly girly that I am in contrast to Ares, but rather, how sympathetic the Nordions are towards me and my circumstances. Ares’ parents listened attentively when I told them a little bit about me since I figured they might be curious as to why I live alone with Coirpre. I told them that my mother is—was—I don’t know anymore—a dancer, that I was an orphan, all those things... I thought I was just simply informing them as to why I am used to cooking for myself and Coirpre, but the moment Ares’ mother affectionately squeezes my hand as her husband gives me a sympathetic look, I nearly lost it that I have to look away in case I feel like crying.

I help Ares washing the plates. His father seems to keen on sending us back to Ares’ room, but how could I? Ares merely tells me that cleaning the kitchen has always been one of his shares with the house chores, anyway, so regardless of what is what, he will do it. Still, there are some more exchanged laughter and jokes between me and Ares in the kitchen. He teases me for having to stand on my tiptoes because of the tall cabinet before politely asking if I want to hand the cups to him so he can house them. Ares’ mullet is already in my grip when I sense the Nordions peeking at us again, so I sheepishly release it. Determining to give him the payback he deserves, however, I quickly dry all the knives Mrs. Nordion used prior, smugly pointing at his bandaged thumb as he takes everything from me to arrange them in the top-most cabinet I could not easily reach before.

After everything is done, we are back to Ares’ room, with me finishing my edit while he closely watches me as I ask questions. The clock ticks to around four without us realizing it since we are deep in our work—occassionally interrupted by Ares’ pleasant deep voice trying to explain classical landscape paintings I quoted as samples in my paper with the help of his pen, ruler, and eraser. He even suggests me to find a more recent photo to compare the place in question when it was a painting and now in modern times, and even stepping further as making centuries-comparison such as looking at the photo of said place in the twenties, fifties, or other decadences when constructions reached their peak. I really love the work we did together! Forseti will be sooo surprised and for all the good reason!

I lay still on the mat, hugging one of Ares’ pillows while he reads my draft. From the corner of my eyes as I stretch my tired muscles, I cannot resist to peek on him. He looks utterly serious—he truly reads what I wrote without making any comment until he is done with everything. And I appreciate how he will just ask whenever there is something he cannot understand instead of making snide, “Actually~” comment. He apologizes for asking me to clarify some things simply because we study different things since my paper will still be an art history one instead of an architecture assignment, and my spirit flutters when he sincerely thanks me because—according to him—through me, he gets to learn new things and that my explanation was easy to follow for someone who is completely new to the field like him.

... I’m feeling peaceful somehow. I can just lay beside him without having to worry about anything. Ares is decent and treating me with nothing but respect so far, and apparently I appreciate that about him more than I thought I would .... He is not making any move or—you know, ~suggestion~ and I like it the most about him; I can just be myself and feeling contended without worries. I can trust Ares...

My heart nearly jumped into my throat when he asks if I care to unwind since I look tired. Well, it’s not wrong; I am. I have been typing non-stop, only taking breaks when eating lunch with the Nordions and a bathroom break. W-why does he look eager but kind of _shy_ when asking if I want to watch a movie? With that familiar awkward manner including nose-brushing and head-scratching, in a low tone he tells me he has been wanting to watch _this_ movie with... _another person._ And quickly reiterates that another person is not his father? ... I uh—I have questions. First thing first, why must he appear so awkward? Second, why is the box looking rather shady? Like the whole casing is black?! He eagerly says he got it from some thrift store because it’s an antique.

“What is this, movie before the Berlin Wall fell?” I tease him.

“Yeah,” h-huh, he scratches his head again? “Do you want to run it in your laptop or mine?”

“Um,” I clear my throat. “You haven’t watched it yourself?”

“It would be nicer with you around since I can show you the parts I like,” he responds.

Eeh? “Oh—um. You’ll stop if I say so, right?”

“Me?”

“A-and the movie as well?”

“You want me to... stop the movie?” he looks at me confused.

W-wait. “Okay, spill the beans, Ares. What movie?” my heart beats faster. Can’t be, right? He’s only alleged human, right? Do lion demons... I mean...

“It’s this one!” in a proud manner he opens the casing for me, taking out the discs like they are a lost artifact from the past. Now he appears so giddy, like a child who couldn’t contain his excitement because someone is interested in what he is interested doing! “A true classic. Look!”

I feel like squeezing my lungs tight when glancing down. D-did Ares just suggest—okay, hold on...

“Heroes of the East?” my eyes bulge as I raise my voice.

“Yeah. The plot is simple—a Chinese man accidentally insulted his Japanese wife’s family, ending up with both families showcasing various weapons and martial art skills. It truly is a classic with a galore of traditional weapons such as twin blades and sai. Still has the best sanjiegun—three-section staff—fighting scene I’ve come across so far, considering on-screen sanjiegun is already rarer to find compared to say, nunchucks. I truly liked how the filmmaker nicely paired up the fights—like the rope chains meeting kusarigama, for example. Truly a humbling and enriching experience...” he stops when I throw my head back and forth, unable to contain my laughter any longer. First it came out in giggles. The next thing I know, my chuckles freely fly out of their cages that I really, really have to soften my voice a little bit if I do not want to sound like a deranged scientist cackling alone at night! Gosh, I thought he would... and suggested that we... I mean, for he and I to...

I was just about to reply when a rustling sound from the outside catches Ares’ attention. He stands up, leaving the movie at the table which I inspect. It truly _is_ a martial arts movie! I feel so bad for thinking that he might want a ~Netflix and chill~ with me when... gods, could it be that he did not even have friends to watch a movie with? Not even his cousins? Aww, now I want to hug him!

“Yeah, Dad?” Ares smirks, opening his door wider as if showing that there’s nothing wrong happening inside. I smile at his father as well because... eh, what am I supposed to do? W-why is his mother there as well, looking kind of sheepish that if a gaze can talk, it’s almost like she wants to apologize to me after bludgeoning her husband with a rolling pin!

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Ares’ father clears his throat when I smile at him. “Son, did you see my... lighter?”

Ares sighs. “You don’t even smoke, Dad.”

“Oh, right. Am I getting old?” he scratches his head in the similar manner Ares does whenever he is feeling awkward before retreating outside with his wife in tow, who is truly shooting an apologetic look at me. It’s as if she is saying, _sorry for these dumb boys_. W-wew?

“I told you there is nothing needs worrying!” she mutters under her breath. “Come now, Eldie.”

"As expected of our son—honorable,” the older lion nods innocently.

“As expected of our son too—dumb,” Mrs. Nordion sighs as she returns to the living room with him. “Goodness, he should be talking about cute things, not adrenaline-pumping action movies!”

“... I’m sorry about that,” Ares returns inside. “My parents can get a bit—“

“Caring?”

“I was thinking overly-enthusiastic,” he chuckles softly. “But that was a kind thought. Thank you.”

“Nooo, it’s alright~! I find it endearing. Perhaps because...” I bite my lips a little bit. Because I don’t even know if my mother is still alive or not. I have to remind myself not projecting it onto Mrs. Nordion—just because she treats me so nicely like that, I instantly get reminded of what I lack. I cannot tell Ares that her kind gesture really gave me the motherly touch I never thought to be craving like this, and I guess—I guess my eyes start to be glassy as I recall her warm voice and affectionate touches. “Sorry, Ares. I... ah, yes, let’s watch it! Show me the fight scenes you liked! Do you do the nunchucks the way he does?”

I arch my body forward to grasp the CD box, but he stops me. His hand gently clasps mine before taking the box from me. A humble question to ask for my permission follows shortly before he loads the disc into my laptop’s player, and it does not take long for the movie’s logo and everything to begin showing up. Suddenly he pauses the player... “Lene?”

“Ah—y-yes?”

“It’s alright,” he pats my shoulder. “I’m sure your mother will treasure you when you get to meet her.”

Ah...

“I...”

“And why wouldn’t she, knowing there’s this kind daughter to cherish—eh?” he looks at me. N-not his fault. Instinctively, I grab his arm, leaning against his shoulder. The movie begins playing—when Liu Hotao debates his wife during meal time, ending up with them sparring against each other.

“Married life, huh,” I nuzzle him gently. Did his wife there just try to judo-throw him? Oh, she really did.

Ares’ lips curve nicely like my commentary tickled him in the ribs. “Arranged still, but that’s the dream.”

“You want a wife who can kick your ass like that?” again, I nudge him. This time he chuckles, moving a little bit to slide closer to me.

“My significant other will have an access to kick my ass anytime, regardless.”

Why, his body feels warm and comforting against mine like this. He frankly tells me he adores the spear-fighting part and quickly fills me in about tonfa which he also wields. I don’t think I’m supposed to feel lulled, but I do anyway, even though the movie is not sweet at all. There’s something heart-warming, seeing him so enthusiastic and passionate as he shares his martial arts knowledge with me. Despite all the action-packed fighting scenes, however, I can’t let go the memory of gentleness he treated me with when he talked about my mother. Forgive me, Mom. I think I like Mrs. Nordion too. Will you feel like I’m replacing you? I still faintly remember your warm comforting touches, but Mrs. Nordion’s are the the closest motherly warmth I got as an adult. And I thought—I thought I didn’t need it. Yet when eating with the Nordions I realized I might... yearn for a familial bond more than I thought I did. There is a place for me at another person’s intimate dinner table. And receiving Ares at mine also feels so... extraordinary because... because usually...

I truly stick up until the movie is finished. Ares rubs his nose awkwardly again as he ejects the CD from my laptop, mumbling an apology because he just realized I might not find it as appealing as he did. Smiling, I touch his arm gently, thanking him for sharing something that is important to him—the movie, the books, the room, and also... his family. He was just about to say something when Mrs. Nordion’s gentle voice calls from the outside, and he is back, with the door still open and everything. It’s nearing six now. Coirpre texted me that he just got home with a box of chicken tenders from a drive-thru Arthur stopped by on the way to driving Fee, Ced, and him home from the museum. Ah, Arthur seems to be a good person too, he does care about Ced and I’m happy for Fee...

“I guess it’s time for me to head home as well,” I tell Ares. “I’m sorry, but—but can you tell your mom that I won’t be eating dinner with you? Coirpre will be alone then, so...”

“Oh, my mom was just meaning to talk to you about it,” he moves a little, showing Mrs. Nordion at the threshold smiling at me. “And wait, please, I’ll take Mystletainn out of the garage for you.”

Ares leaves, leaving me alone with Mrs. Nordion who unexpectedly holds a... hnnn, container? “Yes, dear,” she says, leaning closer so I hurriedly get up as to not burden her furthermore. “I wonder, would your little brother at home appreciate some stew? And... oh, right, we can pack the baked potatoes as well. I still have a pan-sized schotel macaroni if you want? My boys eat a lot, so with or without the catering I tend to cook plenty, after all! Or... ah, how old is your brother again?”

I can only stand—gaping, perhaps, even though I follow Mrs. Nordion to the kitchen. She casually pours the stew into the container before packing it with everything she mentioned prior. “Oh gosh,” finally I find my voice when she is done packing them. “Y-you shouldn’t have...”

“I’m limited, as you know...” she settles on a chair while I—struggle to keep my emotions at a bay before... before I get to jump straight into hugging her instead. “So this is the least that I can do.”

“I kind of feel the same way,” again, I mutter out of reflex. “Ares helped me a lot, while I just...”

“I don’t think those are trivials,” she nods reassuringly. “After all, he looks so happy...”

“I don’t think what you do is trivial either—cooking is awesome, there’s so much love in it~!” aww, I blurt out of reflex again! “L-like. You just gave us a lot. I’m so grateful... I mean—thank you so much!” w-wew, even a cactus is more coherent than me now! But Mrs. N simply smiles and rubs my arm. Perhaps being a mother of a lion cub who says the darndest things with a straight face makes her a pro?

Ares returns to tell me that he has Mystletainn ready if I want to go home. Between saying goodbye to the Nordions and Ares tying the plastic bag of food his mother gave me to the bike, I notice how beautiful the sky is. Perhaps this is how Ares gets that nice sunset view from his window... but does sunset make your heart feel warmer like this? Mrs. Nordion lends her own helmet which Ares procured in case he needed to drive her around, and somehow I feel shyer than shy now. I recall Ares’ own contemplation about procuring another helmet for me, and I never said anything because... because like, we are not 'a thing' and it’s not like he is my driver or something. But now that he practically has been driving me around, somehow what his mother lent me felt like a... recognition? Am I overthinking much?

A red light at an intersection prompts us to stop for a while. By then the sun starts setting, and the spectacular view gives us a magnificent reddish-orange ball in the sky as if the horizon is this silvery waters slowly sinking it down. I tap Ares’ shoulder. He lifts the fiberglass protector of the helmet so we can talk better. “Look,” I whisper in his ear. “It’s so pretty, isn’t it?”

Ares’ helmet fences his expression from me, but his eyes shift as he hits the gas again. I thought he’s feeling mischievous that he wants to cross a red light, but Ares is a responsible driver, so...

He diverts. The bike heads to the bridge instead, and he stops. Taking off his helmet, instead of just tilting the bike so I can get off, he straddles on Mystletainn; his gloved hand casually takes mine to help me descending the bike. “Thanks,” I smile at him as I tidy my dress. “But what for?”

“For the pretty,” he murmurs.

As if he talks to himself than me. But I follow suit, regardless—stopping by the bridge to watch the nice sunset with him standing beside me and mighty Mystletainn by our side. There are weekend passerby who also watch sunset like us—chilling at the bridge, eating sandwiches or even roasted corns they bought from the market under. Ares inhales deeply, looking so contended that I cannot resist smiling at him. This is funny, though—people usually watch sunsets from a more sophisticated place—the beach for example, or some hill with a great view or cute outdoor cafe. It’s just a bridge connecting the lower part of our city to the upper one, with business from the market and everything else at its foot. Yet...

“What?” he asks, feeling my eyes on him.

Shaking my head gently, my voice is soft... “Nothing~! You look happy and I like it.”

“You are happy... when I am happy?” he whispers.

“Sure! You’ve never done this?” I tick his nose, sighing. The view is nice. And having him nearby is nicer...

“No,” he murmurs again. Not wanting to make him feel more awkward or thinking that I was just teasing him, I take two of the baked potatoes Mrs. Nordion packed for me. This is funny—other people have snacks too, but we are like kids on a tour eating the food we packed from home. However I don’t hate it. If anything it kind of feels precious, sharing something only Ares and I know about .... We stand in silence for some minutes more until we finish the potatoes. It’s going to get dark soon, so Ares wisely decides that it’s time for us to truly hit the road again. Our fingers accidentally brush against each other when he hands his mother’s helmet, and neither of us feels like backing away until the other side withdraws first somehow...

We do ride again. The sun does begin to completely set then, and between imagining Coirpre’s reaction since basically I just got stuff from Lionheart Kitchen and watching the sights around me as Mystletainn takes turns and presses onward, I realize that I... truly like this. I want to do more little mundane but heart-warming things together with Ares! I want to have him by my side, I want...

Such thoughts prompt me to tighten my hold around his waist out of reflex. In the midst of the cool evening breeze, his back feels so warm that I’m so tempted to lean against him, laying my head on his back while the night breaks above us, giving a sneak-peek of summer celestial map. This is no longer easy, I thought—I really need to tell him what I truly think—no, feel. That I no longer do not mind having this alleged lion demon around—rather, I need to have him in my life. I crave this togetherness; if this is the Waterloo that oldie is talking about, how come this feels so fine? It’s almost like my very being finds what it never thought to have lost, and this feeling so sweet that I thought I could—cry? Is it okay to like this so much, to like him a lot—no, to yearn for his partnership? To wish that I could truly call him...

... Mine? ...

H-haha, he is not mine. And I really do not want to take possession of a person until either of us is lost and formless because there is this ownership in question. Rather than that, I’ll be so happy if he, too would allow a little room for me to be there. To share the space so I can—experience the same seasons with him, looking at the same sunset and breathing the same air like this. And I’ll treasure him for sure...

“Ares, are you coming to the Art Night?” I softly ask him.

“I’ve never,” he says, eyes still gazing into the distance. ... Oh? And what if...

“I was wondering if you would... you know, at least once before you get to graduate...”

“... He will be there, will he?” he asks quietly. He does not need to explain that it has to be Seliph.

“Yes, he will,” I reply firmly. “... And you cannot run away from Seliph forever like this.”

“Excuse you,” he mutters under his breath, fist tightly clenching in his pocket. “I’ll show you I don’t.”

“That is exactly what I do not want and did not mean to say,” huffing, my hand quickly travels to grab his earlobe. But my tone softens even more because... because this is so sad. Because I know that deep down, he—“Won’t you? At least once as a student of Jugdral-U?” I look at him again. “I mean—I mean it’s a pity if you decide to forego everything you may like just... j-just because...” I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know how I can convince him that he belongs, either. Somehow I believe that despite my best efforts—no, _our_ collective efforts, as in our mutual friends’—in the end it is still Ares’ problem to deal with. But... but how can I help? He is hurting. And by charging heads-on he is going to hurt and get hurt in the process. And I’d like to believe that despite all those sulky responses he displayed, he does not actually fancy it either. But how do I...

“What?” he asks again.

“This isn’t supposed to be a debate, you know,” I touch him.

“... I’m sorry,” he murmurs, softening his tone a bit. “It’s just that...”

“I was simply thinking you would be unfair to yourself if you let this rule over you.”

“Unfair... to my self?” he bends a bit to look at me. “... How?”

“Because such sentiment hinders you to feel free,” I look into the distance. Ah, the sun is indeed setting. More people are settling down in those outdoor seats of the cafes under the bridge, with some other are flocking into the market for street foods. Can’t blame them—this weekend is spectacular if not romantic, I must say. Besides, we become one of them too by being here .... I can feel Ares shifts beside me; his pants make a rustling sound as he turns that he is no longer looking into the distance like prior—instead, he leans against the bridge. This way he faces me and he can pay attention on the parked Mystletainn since it’s getting dark, and... ah, just another little Ares thing—protective of me too...

“Explain,” he mumbles.

“It will be so sad that after nearly losing everything and still recovering from it you can’t even live life,” I reply softly. “Like—like I think I’ve had unpleasant encounters as I danced, but—but I’d rather not let those swines win. I exist and I will, whether they like it or not. Whether they scared me or not. How am I going to face my mother again if I let every single thing break me? They’re not taking _me_ out of me.”

“... Hmmm,” he mutters. Suddenly h-he... smiles?

“U-um. Did I say something... uh, weird?” h-he is not laughing at me, isn’t he? H-he better not!

“No. On the contrary,” he stands up. “You truly are much stronger than any blackbelt I know.”

“Eeeh?”

“Yeah,” chuckling, he walks to retrieve Mystletainn. “Then I suppose I’ll attend the Art Night...”

“Oooh!”

“Will there be anyone else... no, someone else... wanting to take you there?” he whispers—so faint and husky like either he really hesitates asking it or... yielding. Like he braces himself for the answer.

“Perhaps? I don’t know,” my voice... stutters. “Because... because even if they do, I... want you.”

“... Oh?” he quickly tightens his grip against Mystletainn’s handlebar. H-he looks so surprised that he really nearly lost his grip like that? “... Really?”

“Y-yes?” am I being too forward? What’s wrong with me, usually I’m not this reserved! “But eh—if you think you have some kind of duty to fulfill, then no. I can go alone too and it will be no problem~!” I muster a solid confident look, hopping behind him. He starts the machine, and... ah, brooding again?

“I simply want you to be safe and cared for,” he says, handing the helmet to me. “So stop assuming things by trying to read my mind like that—short yes, a child no.”

“Hnnn!” I conveniently kick him. I’m not the one with height problem—he is! And need I remind him that I’m human-human, not alleged human like him! ... But still, it’s relieving to hear him chuckling back. A-and more importantly... o-oh, gods—he is my date for the Art Night!!

Mystletainn takes us back to my apartment seamlessly, where a beaming Coirpre gleefully welcomes Ares when his face peeks inside. Coirpre is happier than happy when I tell him Ares’ mother packed food for us, and without being asked he empties Mrs. Nordion’s container to have everything neatly arranged on plates. I take another pudding batch from my fridge as I brew some tea for the lion, who sits cross-legged on our carpeted floor while Coirpre chirps about the museum he visited. From the pantry I can hear Ares earnestly responding to everything, which... again, fishes a smile out of me. He leaves after finishing my tea with my other pudding in the container—now lemon with edible rose petals I got from some florist’s clearance sale which previously also took Iuchar’s theater group’s business to decorate.

My voice stutters a bit as I send him out. His warm smile eases my mind when I tell him to drive safely. I... I’m aware of his prowess, but somehow more than anything, I want him comfortable and protected... I never thought I’d be trading foods with the owner of Lionheart Kitchen, but...

... But then again I never expected to fall for her alleged-human son, either.

* * *

 

“Come on, Sis. You are still you, not someone else,” Coirpre chirps, rolling on my bed. He frees his head out of a pile of clothing I have been throwing away across the bed since I’m trying things out. P-perhaps it’s my mistake to begin with, drafting my innocent-yet-curious slash impish younger brother, but there are only us here, so whom should I ask for a comment? Sigh. In all honesty, I _do_ understand why he is concerned—I’ve been mix-matching everything from the outfit to accessories for like... ten times now.

“Shut up, Coirpre, how about this one?” I huff, posing before him. Something doesn’t feel right, still—is it because of the color? I don’t even remember how I got this dress, but what even _is_ this neon green?

“You will outshine a fastfood billboard,” Coirpre giggles, quickly turning them into a yelp because I mercilessly tickle him. “Nnngh! Meanie! You asked for advice! Ouch, ouch, have mercy, cool sister!”

“Hnnn. The pink one it is then,” Coirpre gulps because I throw a pillow over his head. He gasps before attempting to free his face from the pillow while I change again, reverting to the first dress I tried—chiffon pink organza one with a vintage design, sleeveless with frilly-ish princess cut at the bottom. This way I can dance well while still looking elegant—it’s like preparing to dress for a cocktail party but the moment they turn on the disco lamp, I’ll slay other guests fabulously! Muuuhaha!!

“I don’t get it,” Coirpre remarks sullenly as I begin to do my face. “You’ve been dancing for shit ton of times. Campus events never stressed you out, but now you are...”

“Oooh my God, do I look nervous?! Tell me, Coirpre, what, are my cat-like eyeliners uneven?! Anyway, this is the eyeliner if you have no idea what I’m talking about. What, is my foundation cracking or something? Damn it, I’m pretty sure I used a primer beforehand. Coirpre?! Do I look like a mess?”

“... S-Sis?” Coirpre clutches on my pillow, like he is so _scared_ of me! “And uh—n-no, perfect!”

“Oh. Good,” I swallow hard, slumping on my own bed facing my mirror. “What, Coirpre?”

He gulps, dragging himself out of a pile of clothes and pillow I buried him with prior. “Is everything okay?”

“Hnnn? Sure! Anyway—how do I look?” what did he even ask me prior? Frankly, I didn’t even notice! I’m busy combing my own hair. Finally I settle with letting it down, making the last touch by sweeping it sideways before... yes, decorating it with the constellation hairpin Ares gifted me in Miletos! Oh, God, even I say so myself, I’m pretty satisfied with my look tonight! And this dress is of knee-length, with the flaring organza, dancing will be easy! The straps are like ribbons too, hehe, sorry to disappoint you, Iuchar, I just know nice deals, not robbing graves! Aww, the hairpin shines reflecting the light...

“Hmmm...”

“Coirpre?” giggling, I pinch his nose. He gulps again. “Hey, I’ve reheated the leftover stew from Mrs. Nordion~! If you don’t feel like making your own dinner, buy fried chickens or something tonight, okay? Um, I’d rather you not leave the house, Coirpre, so... delivery? Or you call now so when the food comes at least there will be adult in the house, how about that?”

“O-okay!” Coirpre reflexively makes a military salute at me. “But Sis, I mean... you went all-out.”

“Hnnn~? Whyyy, am I ugly?” I singsong, applying glittery lip gloss as a last touch before grabbing my clutch... purse... ah, whatever. Wew, I do sparkle. My open-toe heels are silver just like my clutch too!

“N-not at all! You are so pretty!” Coirpre truly beams at me? Heheee, what a cute kid! “See, that’s what I mean! I’ve never seen you dolled up like that. Um, and are you going with... someone else?”

I’m just about to reply when the doorbell rings. “That’s him,” I wink at Coirpre. “Now be good, okay~?”

“H-him?” Coirpre trips over my bag as he races me to the door. “You have a date?!”

Hnnn? What’s the fuss? Ahaha, is Coirpre on protective mode? Is he getting jealous or something? How dare you, little brother, it’s not like you did not fraternize with your beloved Coach N first! Coirpre’s enthusiasm makes him the winner of this small race since he reachesf for the door before I do. He takes a look at me, and then back at the door, then at me again—this time with a questioning look before he gives in to solemnly open the door, as if he is my footman I ordered to stand on guard or something! Meanwhile I try to calm myself down. I’ve been hanging out with Ares a couple of times. This should be easy, right? T-this should be...

“Good evening.” Aww, the door opens!

“C-Coach N?” Coirpre practically _yells_ that I have to pull him back while Ares stands bemused.

“Coirpre! Duh! Good God,” I roll my fists over his temples while this little asshat chuckles and giggles as if there’s a bug colony making a march under his armpit! ... Anyway, ew, gross. Ares, on the other hand, though, simply takes himself inside my house... smiling.

O-oh God. I really don’t want to sound like a stupid malfunctioning microwave, b-but...

“Hi, Lene,” Ares smiles, with the kind of mouth corner-twitching which drives me _kind of_ crazy. “And hello, junior rabbit,” he waves at my little brother. H-how dare he sounding so nice like that. And most importantly, how dare he looks so _overwhelmingly_ handsome like that?! And—dear God, he even dresses up. Like, he is pretty fancy tonight—high-collared long-sleeved shirt... yes, _black_ , darn it—but... but there are like gold-accented decorations on the back with what appears like vegetal motifs if not calligraphy strokes. These lines stretch onto the front part like clasping his shoulders, with the button line on the front is of gold and silver combination. He even wears crisp black _leather_ pants! And pair everything with the comfortable yet sturdy combat boots he wore back then! ... Please don’t tell him that I secretly _adore_ those leather pants. Even more when they are _specifically_ on him.

“H-hello,” I respond awkwardly. W-what happened to my circuit! Meanwhile Coirpre is still laughing his ass off that I glare at him. I-I have to, if only to salvage my dignity! How come I get all tongue-tied and less coherent than a flour sack just because... j-just because he showed up looking bloody cute like this?!

“Ah, you are wearing that...” he glances at my head.

“O-oh. Visible, huh? I uh—I forgot you are this tall.” What the hell, what happeend to my diction?!

“Thank you,” he smiles even sweeter (YES! FUUUU—!) before showing something at me... something he has been keeping behind his back. “Coirpre? Here’s from my mom.”

“It smells heavenly,” Coirpre chirps. “Is that ambrosia?”

“It’s dinner,” Ares chuckles. “So you have something while I take your sister out.”

“THEN IT IS AMBROSIA!!” Coirpre yells happily, taking the food container from Ares. “Byeee, Sis~!”

“Oh, cool. A moment ago you were sooo worried about me!” I huff.

“Not anymore, since the date is Coach N~!”

“Coirpre!!”

“Nanana, you can’t catch me in those heels. Buhbyeee, Auntie Slowpoke!” he disappears into the pantry to set the dinner Ares brought. “Bye, Coach N. Have a blast! Take care of my sister, alright?”

“I will,” Ares nods firmly. He makes another step while I’m still contemplating whether to chase Coirpre into the pantry to murder him or even bazooka Ares first before I do, and somehow all the evil scenario I’ve had in mind conveniently vanishes when he smiles again... “Shall we?”

“Ah! Y-yes!” I start walking while Ares gets the door for us. T-this is weird! I’ve never been this awkward before while in heels! So what’s the deal? There’s that glint in Ares’ eyes like he’s trying to contain his amusement. We still haven’t said anything else even when the elevator comes and everything, and... wow, even by the somber reflection of the elevator’s mirror, we look pretty badass. Gotta say something, gotta say something... what if deep down he is awkward because he feels out of place? He said he’s not a social butterfly and this is his very first Art Night. I need to vanquish his doubts, like, at least making him feel comfortable in his own skin and everything.

“You are screaming again, I feel bad,” he rains light chuckles on me. “Perhaps I should bring flowers.”

Oooh my GOD?? Hello?! Ambulance? I caught cardiac arrest!! “No problem! It’s the thought that counts.”

“... Hmmm,” he nods slightly. C-come on, Lene, say something nice and meaningful. This dork cub just admitted he actually wanted to give you flowers! “I wanted to pick up some, but the repair shop’s shift today took me longer. Didn’t feel like leaving them there, might get greasy for you to touch...”

“It’s okay, I like it greasy.” Wait, what—what the _heck_ , brain?! C-calm down, Lene—yes, Ares is gorgeous tonight, yes, this is a date, yes—... e-exactly because it’s a... yes? “I mean. I mean—that’s more like you. Bringing food and everything, I mean. You care about us. I appreciate it, so thank you~!”

“... You are too nice,” he curves his lips again. We take our steps further into the parking lot, and I put on my mantle anticipating a night ride with Mystletainn when Ares begins to leave me to get his mount. To my surprise, however, I don’t hear the sounds of Mystletainn’s machine rumbling, but rather a blinking head light. Huh—car?

“Ares?” I call on him, feeling a bit wary out of a sudden. I’ve had bad experiences and heard even worse stories, so the last thing I’d want to encounter is definitely a basement creep! Those ads and everything tend to say women often get approached in parking lots, especially when they are about to retrieve their car! But to my relief, the driver’s window is down, revealing... Ares. Yes, the very Ares himself!

“Yeah?” he musters a small smirk. It seems he catches that I’m tempted to hear an explanation, so his words come out as he grips on the wheel to begin taking us out of the apartment complex. “My dad suggested me driving his car when I told my parents I’d be taking you to the Art Night tonight. I agree.”

“Oh,” I can only murmur, taking off the mantle I’m wearing. “Sorry for troubling you. Um, and your dad.”

“Not at all. Comfortable?” he responds without taking his eyes off the street. I spare a quick nod with a hum so he can catch my approval since he’s still driving—of course it is. With the dress and everything, it’s really nice to settle down, having leg room and being warm in a car. But even if this is Mystletainn instead of his dad’s car, I won’t mind as well. After all, we are here because it is us, not Mystletainn...

“Um...” somehow I’m a bit nervous. I kiiiind of want to improve the mood between us, or at least for my selfish reason—I want to get him in the mood, with all the romantic vibe surrounding us. From couples heading out for a merry weekend night, from the fact that this is summer, a bright season full of fun and celebration... the atmosphere is lively too, and it will be too bad if I’m the only one enjoying everything. Wew, we run into red light too! I mean, not that we run _against_ it since Ares is still a responsible driver regardless of what he mounts, but like, actual red traffic light which detains us quite longer at the road. Now what should I do? Like, what should I talk to him about, you know, to better the mood?

“Too quiet?” he scratches his head, dropping the hand brake because the traffic light is just before us. He shifts his hand into... mine? Aww, no—the radio! He turns it on, and quickly turns it off again in a heartbeat after making a throat-clearing sound because of the... song selections. “My parents are into classics...” he says apologetically when _Moon River_ begins blasting through the speaker.

“Omg. I don’t mind!” I playfully rub his hand. Really, what beef do I have against eternal love songs? Besides—ah, right, excellent taste, Mister N! ... Perhaps that truly proves that the Nordions are centuries-old. Somehow my mind travels back to Tirnanog—what will the others say when I show up with him? I won’t let them make him feel bad!

_Oh, dream maker  
You heartbreaker—_

... No. Please, don’t break my heart...

“What’s wrong?” he looks down, pulling the hand brake since the traffic light changes into green.

“Ummm. N-nothing. Sorry about that,” ah, I didn’t realize I’m still holding his hand!

_—Wherever you're going I'm going your way—_

“Are you sure?” ah, there it is again—the concerned tone with a gentle cooing to make me talk.

How do I... tell? C-can I even... _want_ like this? What if he doesn’t think the same? This night is vital, so I suppose I need to wait. Not now, not here. Not even when his father’s music player does wonder. Oh, dear God—I’m scared. I don’t even really know what it is that I’m feeling so nervous about; all I know is that I just... I want to tell Ares everything. T-this is it, right? If not it, then how come it feels... right? How come everything just feels so fitting and nice exactly because he doesn’t do anything except... being him? How do I even convey to him that despite my insistence, I’m worried people will give him a hard time at Tirnanog later. What if it only pushes him to feel even more unwanted that he... fades away from me?

“... Ares?” h-how do I... and oh boy, I don’t want to let go of his hand either...

“Yes...?” his voice is equally tender...

“T-the truth is...” _I am quite fond of you, no, I fancy you, not that either—I think I’ve FALLEN for you—_

“... Hmmm?”

 _Oh, dear God, I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for being as clear as polluted water and as eloquent as a brick but actually honest to God I really like you and it is so confusing and scary at the same time because I’ve never harbored such strong feeling like this towards... basically... anybody, s-so... so would you mind telling me what you think of me or whether you have me under your spell? I mean like, it seems to me that I am under your spell but considering you are an alleged demon, perhaps you actually—forget it, how about a kiss? Do you fancy a kiss? Have you kissed other people before? Did they mean a lot to you? H-hold on, what if I just embarrassed myself furthermore by kissing you—_ “N-no, it’s just...”

“Just what...?” he leans in closer. He doesn’t make any attempt to swat my hand either. Why is his other hand leaving the wheel? What will he do? O-oh, did he keep some water nearby? No? Eh—h-his hand travels to... to my chin? Hnnn, Ares—Ares, do you... or don’t you? Ares...

_We're after the same rainbow's end, waiting, round the bend  
My Huckleberry Friend, Moon River, and me_

“J-just then the traffic light blinked!” I point forward.

“Oh. Right,” he says in a simple manner. God, this is the opposite of blessing in disguise... but suddenly he dives into my side. “You look good tonight...” right when I thought my ears are deceiving me, this lion demon quickly shifts to return to steering after sending me a sparkling, mischievous look! Aaah, how dare he castrating his vocal chords again and chuckling deeply like that!

B-but we are so close to Tirnanog! My, I really feel like a stranger since I usually commute by train... after we get through this red light, supposedly we’ll drive some more until a left turn separates us from the other vehicles driving straight which should take them to Thracia. With the left turn, supposedly we’ll pass by a station where I usually get off when I’m heading to school—by walking, I’d just cross the street and venturing deeper into this green pedestrian passage to get into Jugdral-U compound. But since we’re driving—sigh, alright, Ares is—he’ll need to follow the road after encountering the train station to get to Jugdral U’s southern parking lot if that’s where he intends to park. If not, then he needs to take another turn up north after getting in the campus compound since Tirnanog and the Crusader’s Ward gym is closer to reach from Jugdral-U’s northern parking lot.

“I wonder if you’d allow me to treat you cappuccino again like prior~!” I smile at him, determined to undo the tension at all costs. Tirnanog is just ahead of us, how is he faring?

“Allow? No,” he cocks an eyebrow but his eyes... shine. “But a cup will be nice. Thank you.”

Ares does not say anything after that. He keeps driving, taking all the turns and intersections needed to reach Tirnanog or Jugdral-U’s compound. We’ll just need to pull into a detour—I can already see Tirnanog’s neon billboard flashing from afar. Some of the cars which were with us prior tail behind us because they are taking the same detour. Oh, they probably head to Tirnanog as well? One of these cars midly honks while flashing a light, so Ares tilts to the side thinking the car in the back is in a hurry that it wants to race us. To my surprise—and chagrin, perhaps, that car rolls down its window, revealing... Diarmuid by the driver’s seat! Beside him, Patty reclines closer to his shoulder from the front passenger seat with drumsticks in her hand. “Heeeyyy!” Diarmuid waves at us, and I can’t contain my giggles when Lester, Lana, and Nanna at the back seat collectively scream at him to mind the steering wheel.

“Do I know you or something?” Ares smirks, rolling down his window as well.

“Ass,” Diarmuid cusses. “I thought Uncle Eldie’s car has a doppelganger, but this is truly you, cousin!”

“Well, Eldigan Nordion’s one and only,” Ares’ smirk grows wider, patting the car before pointing at himself that I cannot resist to snort because of that. Diarmuid makes a military salute at me.

“Ready to blast the stage?”

“So ready,” I grin at him. “If you are racing us, would you tell Seliph to order a cappuccino, please~?”

“Anything for my queen tonight,” Diarmuid purposefully musters a cheerful yet deferring tone, which... I suspect just to annoy Ares. But he’s mistaken—I’m team Ares tonight, hehehe~!

“No, dear. For your darling cousin. Pretty please? The Queen’s order?” likewise, I purposefully make my tone demure, earning Diarmuid’s sincere, so-very-sincere _gape_ while Ares cackles behind the wheel.

“The lady hath spoken, so move, Sir Pervert.”

“Assss,” Diarmuid hisses, but clearly there are stars in his eyes because he smiles anyway. He chirps a thing or two about Ares who has never been seen around campus festivals prior, let alone Tirnanog... I think I can almost see fog being so close manifesting into crystal beads as Diarmuid conveys he truly is happy to have Ares with us tonight. Awh, I get teary-eyed too. But I don’t have time to turn away because suddenly Diarmuid stretches his arm to hold my hand—thanking me...

“We’re so going to conquer the stage, D,” I smile at him.

“I have a good feeling about this too, friend,” he smiles back in a brotherly manner. Ares makes a way so Diarmuid’s car can conveniently pass through. Diarmuid smoothly pulls into Tirnanog, heading to the parking area as Ares tails his car from behind.

Finally, we are really here! Diarmuid parks and Ares strolls the car to occupy the empty lot next to his before shutting off the machine. He fiddles with the steering wheel for a moment before unlocking the car while Diarmuid and the rest huddles together to brave the crowding visitor. Ah, Tirnanog is so packed and merry! Patty quickly readies her drumsticks while Lester runs to get his musical equipment.

“I’ll see you on stage?” Diarmuid says because I’m not moving.

“Sure,” I give him a thumbs-up. “Ares won’t run from a battlefield.”

Ares gently squeezes my hand—safe from Diarmuid’s eyes, only for us to see, and definitely only for me to feel... he gets out, rushing to my side. “Ah, sorry—I thought with the dress and everything...”

“It’s alright! Thank you,” I nod understandingly, letting him opening the door for me. Chivalry, but _asking_ first? S-stop making me fall even deeper, you are supposed to be a demon! “Give me your paw.”

“I’m not a cat,” he forces a sullen tone but gives me a hand, anyway. I catch that amused look he tries so hard to conceal, but by now Ares should understand that the more he tries, the more he fails~!

“Hehe, nice. I’m your bodyguard tonight!” I mutter softly, start coming inside Tirnanog with his hand in mine. Or rather, mine in his. S-size... matters, apparently... sigh. “So, I won’t let anyone give you a hard time just because you suddenly show up at Tirnanog. I’ll deck them!” I playfully flex my muscles.

“... Ah, rabbit...” suddenly he smiles... kindly. “Thank you. Tonight you hold my life then.”

W-wew, Ares...

Regardless, YES, I’m not letting people ruining Ares’ mood tonight! Why do these people think talking behind someone’s back or making comments about how unlikely it is to find them here will help them break out of the shell? Besides, considering it’s them who pushed that person into a shell to begin with, that’s really not nice of them. Nanna and Leif are already on the stage, opening the event which receives instant applause from everyone else as Ares and I sail through people to find a table. Oh, I love all this play of lights. Tirnanog looks cozy but no less dope—some paintings and drawings decorate the walls like we’re on an exhibition! There are also some artistic black-white photographs to accompany those paintings, and Tirnanog tonight has become a haven for art and friendship! People greet each other, some even hug or kiss. Some come and spend a good time looking at all the artworks on the wall.

“Here. Pretty close to the stage,” Ares says, pulling a chair for me. “So you won’t need to walk much since you are in those shoes. Eh—not your favorite spot, but the table sheet is also pink...”

... He really is trying and making effort to make this night go well for me in that endearing dorkish way... “Thank you,” I shoot him a really soft smile. He chuckles so I look at him. “Hnnn?”

“We keep thanking each other,” he says. “Anyway...” I—I can’t believe it. He casually takes out the flower decorating the sleek vase on the table. “Pardon,” with a small smile on his lips he bends the stem a little bit before... gently tucking it behind my ears. I’m too stunned to react—n-not only that, surge of warmth flares my cheeks that I almost lost all my willpower to look at him... meanwhile he still maintains that kind smile on his face; even more so now that he touches my chin, gently tilting my face so he can have a good look of me. “There’s a flower now.”

“Did you pick this table because... because you saw the vase?” I murmur.

“Yes,” he replies simply. Ah he’s always like that. There’s no toying, no hiding from me. And sincere too...

It’s a good thing that Leif and Nanna begins to read out the rundown for tonight, with Lester signaling me to be ready because Diarmuid’s festive _Livin La Vida Loca_ will start the night and set the mood. “So, what do we have here, love?” Leif winks at Nanna, who nearly drops her notes because of that ambush. Awh, Leif is adorable as well in his sleeveless brown vest. And he isn’t eating his hair! Nanna blushes slightly while Leif is in his chaotic lovey-dovey mood. Hehehe, they reconcile! Yay, Jugdral-U’s ‘It’ couple is eternal~! But with Nanna returning to the mic, I catch that Diarmuid will truly open the night, so that means I’ll dance with him with Larcei and Iuchar. My solo is scheduled after two songs from Lester and his band—which means Faval, Patty, and Ulster will take over to rule the stage. The rest of the night is practically their band and all the performing artists taking turns to do music, with Iuchar donating his theater-honed voice for _A Time for Us_ from Romeo and Juliet. This kelp, he said his theater wouldn’t do Romeo and Juliet this summer! But Iuchar’s strong affinity for Romeo and Juliet aside, more music means there will be more chance to dance and enjoy the night. Will Ares... dance? W-with me? ...

“Cappuccino for a friend,” a voice startles me from the side. Ah, it’s Seliph! He smiles kindly at Ares, who looks rather pensive as everyone around him are engaging each other in conversations. Ah, right. He doesn’t really know anyone here—at least not in a way he can call as a friend. Leif and Nanna have the stage to be and some people who pass by this table have been doing so while sparing a look at Ares—only to quickly disperse pretending they didn’t see him.

I feel like my ears are warm upon catching some things they said— _Is that..._ followed by that knowing look, like he’s this malevolent entity whose name isn’t supposed to be invoked to begin with. _Why is he here? I was expecting tonight to be merry_ —they said. It’s impossible for Ares not to hear that! “What are they...” I really want to _jump_ at them, even surprising Ares himself who has been behaving so quiet like he is being so submissive that he won’t even lift his head off the table—but to my surprise, Seliph conveniently slams his buttocks into one of the empty chairs, setting down the cappuccino on the table!

“It’s so great to see you here! We are lucky to have you, Ares.”

“What on earth...” Ares mutters, reflexively tries to karate-twist Seliph’s hand over his shoulder. But I gently tap that hand, eyes looking straight into Ares’, who goes silent at an instant. He lets out a growl, before glancing at Seliph, frustrated. “... Why, Chalphy?”

“Because it hurts me too,” Seliph responds casually. “Because you are my friend.”

“... You think you’re funny?” Ares glares at him, but his expression truly says that he’s taken off guard.

“And this is the latte for said friend’s date,” Lana appears by Seliph’s side. “On the house.”

“Awh, no way,” I whisper to her.

“Yes! Happiness is better when shared,” she smiles at me, sliding her fingers to latch them onto Seliph’s. Aaah, can it be? Awh, I can’t help but giggle a little bit, enjoying Lana’s reddened face and Seliph’s shy but happy smile. Ares loosens his tensed body language—perhaps even if he wants to kick Seliph right there, he respects Lana too much to even try anything funny.

Diarmuid winks at me from the stage. That’s the code! I need to dance with him. Iuchar and Larcei arrive together—a bit late or because I haven’t seen them around since I arrived... aha, _why_ is it that I haven’t seen them around, hnnn~? Heheee, she may not look like it, but Larcei is actually very cute~! Riddle me this—why is Iuchar grinning like a gingerbreadman? So I get up. That catches Ares’ attention, but again he does seem like trying to rein his own distate of the crowd, the place, Seliph... since he understands that it’s my turn. And I’ve been so enthusiastic about this!

“I’ll wait the latte for you,” Seliph says. “And you won’t be alone anymore, friend.”

“... Go away,” Ares frowns when Seliph speaks so gently like that to him. He mildly kicks his chair away so that he won’t have to truly share a table with Seliph, but somehow after sparing a glance at me, he drags back the chair close to the table. “... I’m not ruining this night for you.”

“And I won’t keep you waiting for long~!” I wink at him. “I won’t lose what I marked.”

“That’s my line...”

“And mine as well,” I brush his fingertips with mine before hopping onto the stage, where Diarmuid is waiting and scooping me up with his hand. Larcei and Iuchar join me on stage while I wave at the crowd at Diarmuid. From up here, I can see Ares sipping his drink awkwardly while Seliph chirps about... I don’t know—food he dislikes, ghost stories around the school—basically any light-hearted conversation he can think of to engage Ares, or at least making him feel less tensed. Lana faintly mentions about covering Seliph’s shift so that he can sit there accompanying Ares, and I really think my heart is going to melt because Seliph softly touches her cheek.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, Lana, but if anything happens, call on me.”

“Shouldn’t you be there at the counter with her?” Ares asks gruffly, his eyes following Lana as she goes.

“The crusaders have each other’s back,” Seliph replies kindly.

“Crusaders...” Ares balls his fist under the light before looking at Seliph again. “... Listen. I don’t care if you laugh at me about this, but—“

“I will not. Fire away!”

“... Don’t look giddy like that, asshole,” Ares sighs. “I’m returning to the ring. I need to do this. Besides...”

I cannot make what happens next because Seliph truly is _beaming_ at him. Ares shoots a fiercer death glare than usual at him, but Seliph, not caring anything else, tackles Ares into a hug even before Ares gets to finish whatever it is he has been meaning to say! Ares gulps, looking like he really wants to shove Seliph’s face against the table and breaks the cappuccino glass over him next, but instead of all those things he clears his throat, looking hella-embarrassed that he folds his arms while Seliph tackles him. Awh, I really feel like tearing up too if Nanna’s warm tone does not call on me to get ready!

“Next up, coming straight from the beginning of the millennium era—I’m sure everyone is familiar with this one. Yo, Lester, strike up the tune!” Leif finger-guns at the back. Lester grins, strums his bass to create a pelasant melody which tempts the audience’s ears.

“Right back at you,” Lester shouts behind his musical instrument.

“Does anyone knooow?” Nanna moves her mic to the audience. “Why, so many expressions here! The doubtful ones, the certain ones, the in-between ones! Then what will work better than introducing yours truly’s brother here—Diarmuid, the stage is yours!”

The audience erupts. Nanna is popular, but Diarmuid is even more popular! He’s cheerful, optimistic and caring—especially with his adventurous soul and everything. The moment he takes the stage and waves at the audience while adjusting the headband microphone he tapes onto his cheek, the crowd loses their collective panties! ... Or so it seems, because they wave back and scream for his name. “We miss you!!” I can hear some of them yelling, and Diarmuid calmly keeps waving like a pro! Wow~!

“She’s into superstition...” Diarmuid hums into the mic, winking at his anticipating audience.

“Ooooh! Livin la Vida Loca!” the audience yells even louder. Meanwhile Lester gathers his personel, and in no time Febail quickly follows suit by strumming his guitar! Slowly, Larcei and Iuchar begin to emerge from behind the stage. Iuchar has the same headband microphone like Diarmuid, and I wait for a signal from Leif while also adjusting my headband microphone.

“... Black cats and voodo dolls,” Diarmuid keeps teasing his audience with a soft intro, and I wink at Ares when it reaches ‘black cat’.

“She did that again,” Ares mutters, and—again, looking like he’s close to spill his drink. Again? Seliph chuckles. Lana comes back with some tea for him. Haha, it’s like we’re playing guest~! Welcome to the Bragi-Nordion household! ... Oh, dear Lord, but I’m not his spouse! Hnnnh!

“Coming up, la crème de la crème,” Nanna announces again. Leif signals me and joins Nanna back onto the stage, grinning—and well, eating his hair as always. As I step forward to reveal myself I can see Altena with a can of beer in hand, flexing her biceps. I smile back at her, pointing at my table with Ares. Yes, I don’t feel anything malicious towards her; at least not anymore... she is my friend too, she is Ares’ friend, someone important to him just like him to her. Ares could have taken her out tonight, and yet...

“Shush,” Altena grins. I gasp when she conveniently drags another person by the arm—she then cups her mouth at me, and I grin back. “Here be Arion,” she mouths. “My dad is going to microwave himself.”

“Ha! I like it when you speak foreign language like that, love! After all, you are _magnificent_ ,” Leif speaks into the mic. Haha, gods—Leif, my friend, my moon and everything—you nearly killed Nanna on stage there! Altena can be seen frowning, facepalming as if she’s about to die out of second embarrassment. “Right! Courtesy of my beautiful girlfriend—the night has just begun! Folks, Lene, our lady of the stages!”

I come into the stage. Ares stops whatever he is doing to look at me while Seliph puts down his teacup to do the same. Lana leaves the counter once again to give me moral support by raising her thumb, and Larcei joins me with Iuchar, looking like they are ready to demolish an entire army. Diarmuid stays in the role, extending his hand at me to receive me. Once I’m close, he stops to bow like he is about to kiss my hand, knightly-style, before blowing a kiss at Patty who readies herself behind her drumset.

“The Nordions are dumb,” she mutters, red-faced.

“Only the men,” I nod, earning her giggles. “But why are they so cute while being so dumb?”

“Mystery to me,” Patty chuckles, hammers on her drum as Febail’s guitar makes a strike. “But honestly, I kind of don’t want to find out about it. I don’t mind.”

N-neither do I. Anyway, is it just me or the audience’s reaction is... mixed? Like, many are still sincerely, enthusiastically cheering for me, but some others give me a... questionable look? It’s like they are analyzing me with some sort of disbelieving expression on their faces. I mean... okay, technically I’m still a junior performer compared to veteran Art Night-er such as Lester. And Diarmuid seemed to spend a nice amount of time performing here while not busy being charming as usual before he went abroad. Of course I cannot ask for everyone to like me at an instant or demand an equally-merry welcome like what they gave Diarmuid, but there’s just something... something rather unusual about this one. Nevertheless, I’ll show them that I’m professional, both in the background and as the main star! So I smile and wave...

“That girl—the Instagram diva, isn’t she?”

Hnnn? Oh, just because of Instagram? Perhaps I worry too much. What if they see me as a... celebrity?

“... So she’s the Black Knight’s—“

Hold on. What?

“Ha, I tell you what—pay me, I win! Man-eater and whatnot, she likes bad boys.”

Ares is not...! P-professional. Professional. Not now. But those people are standing near the stage, followed by some other student athletes who snicker and grimace when they see me. Some whistle at me, but in catcalling kind of whistle rather than whistling at your favorite on stage—surprising Diarmuid and Leif too while Nanna gapes as if saying— _Did that truly happen?_ Larcei frowns. Iuchar blinks. Seliph glances around while Ares sharply tilts his head like he’s scanning people to locate the douchebag. But I maintain my smile, regardless. Diarmuid walks up to me, sneaking an arm around my back so I follow, leaning onto him. Professional. Professional... I’ll show you what I’m made of. You will not break me!

“Are you alright?” Diarmuid whispers.

“Sure! Hit it,” I nod at him. “Let me show the folks here what a warrior is like.” My confidence—or rather, resolve—masters the stage because everyone else brims with energy. Leif and Nanna retire to the backstage but Nanna gives me a quick hug as the band plays the intro. Diarmuid smiles as he takes my hand, and he begins to sing with me twirling around him.

Larcei and Iuchar turn out to be a marriage made in heaven for this one! Iuchar’s experience with the theater is super helpful for the hesitating Larcei. “I’ll make it so good and you’ll feel comfortable,” he whispers. “Trust me, dear Larcei! Let’s just move like what we’ve practiced so far.”

“T-that sounds weird, you doofus!” Larcei slaps him, but follows, regardless. Diarmuid’s crisp, powerful voice shakes the stage the way it shakes my hips to go along with the tunes... and wow, Patty is such a star! Never thought that the petite girl with long braid possesses such _fantastic_ energy; it’s like her entire person dissolves into the rhythm she creates with her drum. The atmosphere begins to change that even Lester closes his eyes as his fingers dance on the strings.

“Her lips are devil-red and her skin’s the color mocha!” Diarmuid blasts into the mic; his hips behind mine the way his body is just behind mine while I curve and curl in front of him. The audience gets in the mood that they clap and dance as well. Ares’ eyes seem to be fixated on me—let alone when the song reaches that part. But rather than following my posture and everything, Ares looks... sincerely impressed. Like a curious child his eyes trail my every movement—with clear fascination in his eyes. He is watching me. And for the purest reason possible—for the dance, for the rhythm, for... the art...

“She'll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain! She'll make you live her crazy life but she'll take away your pain! Like a bullet to your brain!” Diarmuid’s right leg stomps on the stage, a code well-received by the musicians because they hurl a kickass melody to mark the refrain, with Ulster quickly grabbing the mic Nanna left to be Diarmuid’s backing vocal. Patty pounds on her drum, twirling the sticks in-between her skilled fingers while Febail bows and jumps as he uses his guitar.

“She’ll push and pull you down, livin la vida loca!” Iuchar stretches his vocal chords with Diarmuid’s. Febail keeps strumming as I push and pull down Diarmuid, dancing with him. We are harmonious! And Diarmuid is so good at this too—he makes it look so intimate while in reality he does not even touch me.

I-it’s a success! The song ends with Diarmuid giving me a hand, presenting me to the audience. I must say everything is great! Those who didn’t seem to expect anything clap while those who already did are shouting for an encore. Iuchar professionally waves at the audience with Larcei in his arms—the latter looking satisfied even though her face is bit-red at this point. Either it’s because of Iuchar or she’s nearly running out of breath... or both~! “Thank you!!” I wave at my audience, blowing a kiss. Diarmuid follows, and to our surprise, he makes a quick run to the back side, taking Patty with him and... kisses her!

“Gods,” Larcei chuckles.

“Ippon, dear cousin,” Diarmuid mutters smugly at Ares, who merely shakes his head with a restrained small smile on his face, as if he tries to look disinterested. Diarmuid, you’re an imp! Are the Nordions even human? But I do like the way Diarmuid acknowledges his girlfriend! “You’re the bomb,” he says.

“Thank you! It’s so nice working with you!” I smile at him. “Now to unwind before my solo...”

“Yeah, we’ll need that too,” Diarmuid nods at the band. “Damn, no ice for me tonight, huh?”

“Hey, the latte is superb,” I stick my tongue at him. We exchange a few more laughter on the stage until Nanna and Leif come out from the back side like a hermit relaunching themselves into society! Iuchar disappears with Larcei into the backstage while Ulster simply grabs bottled juices for his band members. Since Diarmuid and the Liberation band will be the ones mostly playing for the night, they do not leave the stage unless they need a bathroom, so Febail slips back with boxed foods, earning all the gratitude from the others because apparently none of them even remembered to buy their own food! Now that the audience is dispersing again, I decide it’s time to have a quick bite as well. At least before my solo, Liberation will play some songs—this time Ulster will be their vocalist while Diarmuid rests.

I walk up to the short staircases to return to my own table. Griping on a tripod I was just about to descend when... when something pulls me from under. There’s a hand extended at me to support me, so I grab it to descend only to face... Ares who towers before me. “... You were radiant,” he says softly.

“Oh,” I whisper. He helped me with the stairs... “Really? You loved my dances~?”

“I’ve always been a fan.”

“No way.”

“Yes. Since following you by mistake like I said,” he chuckles. “I can’t even dance.”

“Mmm. But you can fight.”

“It’s not the same,” his mannerism is humble when saying that. “It never is. That’s why I’m a fan.”

“Awh. What happened to you today~?” I tick his nose.

“Perhaps—I feel a premonition,” he hums. T-that’s... that’s the song!

“Premonition?” w-what will he say... can I too... or should I wait...

“Taking away my pain,” he murmurs. “... Do you drink French champagne?”

“... Alleged demon,” huffing, I tickle his ribs. “Not fair. I’m in heels and yet you are still taller like that...”

“I see. And this?” out of reflex I breathe a squeal when he scoops me again, swiping me off my feet. Our table is not at all far from where we stand, yet Ares does it anyway even though people are looking at us. Some have that disbelief look on their face once again. Some look at him in disgust like he’s staining a holy place by having a moment of mischief with me! Wew, what? Friends and lovers are getting cozy because the event truly brings out the best mood. Even Leif and Nanna also enjoy themselves while being on stage! So why must they single Ares out? Is it because he’s Ares? How unfair!

The murmurs and chatters still follow us even after we are seated. Seliph understandingly takes himself off the chair, returning to the counter to save Lana from the newly-arrived customers flocking for drinks. “That was awesome. I’ve never really watched a dance before,” he smiles, looking a bit shy. “Food?”

Of course I’m not turning that down. I ask Ares if smoked beef sandwiches with melted cheese would be okay and that we can share a bowl of chili con carne together. He just mumbles an affirmative answer, and it does not take long for Lana to be back with our orders. Ares is still being so pensive... so the moment Lana returns to the counter, I pass the chili con carne bowl at him, handing him the spoon. “Here you go~! Ah, if you are still hungry, let’s have a bite again before you return home.”

“I’m driving you home as well,” he mutters.

“I know, Ares~ that’s why my place is okay too. I’ve got some sausages you love ready to be grilled!” I wink at him. He purses his lips like he’s amused, but his eyes tell me that his spirit isn’t here. Not wanting to waste a moment I quickly take a generous scoop of the chili and feed him. “Hearty enough?”

“Mm,” he nods, chewing on it. “Why, rabbit?”

He called me that! Prior to this he looked so brooding that I started getting worried... “Why not, lion?”

“Perhaps because I can eat on my own,” he says.

“Then perhaps because your presence here is not a mistake,” I tell him. “... You belong here, Ares.”

“I don’t give a rat ass about them, Lene. It’s you that I’m concerned about...” he says. He looks like he is about to say something more, but cancels it in the last minute somehow. “I told Seliph I’d take the ring.”

“That’s good, I’m proud of you,” I clasp his hand with mine from over the table. “And how was he?”

“... Delighted,” he murmurs. “He had that stupid smile on him again. I don’t understand...”

“Then I’ll come to watch your first drilling session as a group?” I pass the bowl at him again.

“So I won’t deck my teammate, huh?” he sneers as his hand reaches for the bowl I pass at him.

“No, silly,” I quickly take it back, scooping another spoonful to feed him. “Because if you see a familiar face then perhaps it won’t feel so hard anymore. After all, Leif will be there as well, hnnn?”

“Hmm...”

“No chewing with your mouth open!” I playfully tick his nose. He relents, however, because he simply finishes what I fed him. Cleansing his palate with the cappuccino from prior, his eyes soften as his tone follows. Ah, what’s the noise again, if only these people realize that Ares is actually... easy to talk to. I mean, he may appear distant and aloof but who would have thought that he’s easily reasoned with?

“... My supporting dancer, aren’t you,” he says. “I don’t like feeling... powerless.”

“How come an alleged lion demon powerless?” touching him for the last time I spare a quick soft smile before hopping back onto the stage. The Liberation just concluded two songs and Leif hops off for a moment to tell me that they anticipate my solo. I nod. Diarmuid helps running the song I’ve submitted since he’s the closest to the the backstage at the moment.

Tunes blast the stage as I climb up. Anyone looking at me should see nothing but my love towards dancing as a whole because my confident smile reigns on the stage. Diarmuid, Iuchar, and Ulster quickly grab a mic to serenade me, but for this one, I am the star. We’ve set the song into karaoke mode so their voices should have no trouble blending, but for this one... ah, there’s no time to think! Lester dumps a bunch of confetti from the pre-prepared container tied above the curtain. The audience clap, and Ulster’s powerful and rich voice seizes the audience’s attention without a hassle. “Baby, you're perfect for me! You are my gift from heaven, this is the greatest story of all times...”

Hadise’s _Dum Tek Tek_ is not probably not the most well-known song for the general audience, but it’s so dancey and it has the pop and belly-dancing elements in it which is just perfect to showcase a skill while still being creative while doing so. I twirl, lifting a leg... spinning, moving, under the ”Oooh!” and “Wow!” sighs from the audience because—yes, of course I’m not taking my shoes off. Patty adds more flavor to the music because of her drum solo while Lester grins at me from the corner. “I tweaked the music.”

“You guys are the shining beacon of art,” I clasp my hands together, nodding at him. Lester simply chuckles while Febail strums the guitar for an epic entry, which signals Iuchar to do his lines. He has such strong baritone voice for being an opera singer, so not only it is mesmerizing, but it also adds a touch of elegance to this otherwise truly disco-worthy song. “Angel, I wake up and live my dreams endlessly...”

“Crazy for you!” the boys perform a chorus and Diarmuid steps forward, holding me from behind while Iuchar and Ulster join to take the spotlight both to my left and to my right.

“Can you feel the rhythm in my heart, the beats going dum-tek-tek! Always out like there’s no limit, feels like there’s no way back. Can you feel the rhythm in my heart, the beats going dum-tek-tek...” they really make a _splendid_ trio, with their different vocal type like that! Diarmuid has a lighter voice despite just as powerful as the other two, just suitable for dancey and pop songs. As they sing, I play around as a part of my stage performance, playfully shaking my shoulders near Ulster, swaying my hips with Diarmuid, throwing myself into Iuchar’s arms in which he quickly drops to his knees like a knighted peer.

“Can you feel the rhythm in my heart~?” I shout at the audience, grabbing Ulster’s mic before returning it back to him with a playfully coquettish manner. With a wink I stretch my arms upwards, making a patterned shake all the way from my chest to the hips like a belly dancing drumroll score.

“Can you feel the rhythm in my heart, the beats going dum-tek-tek....” my faithful knights in shining microphones begin to clap their hands, lulling the audience into taking part dancing and singing with us. Having heard the lyrics being spoken a couple of times, a large number of audience have no trouble singing it together with us. It’s so merry! Ulster lifts me up for a moment and I, under the audience’s gasp, simply drops my entire weight altogether like a graceful swan to the waiting arms of Diarmuid and Iuchar. Casually I roll back to get back on my feet, catching Fee’s starry eyes and Lana who clasps her mouth thinking I was about to fall.

“Holy shit,” Arthur grins.

“Lene is professional, I tell you,” Fee sighs. “Jugdral-U’s best dancer!”

“Then this crowd needs to give her a regal welcome,” Arthur _smirks_ now. “Go diva, go diva, go diva!” he shouts, provoking the audience to cheer loudly for me while he takes a couple of quick shots of us all.

“Lene, Lene, Lene!!” they wave at me, calling my name as if this was a celebrity concert.

“Can you feel the rhythm in my heart, the beats going dum-tek-tek!” I shout into the mic, now it is Diarmuid’s that I stole. Seliph accidentally spills the coffee beans he’s about to brew but quickly gives me a thumbs-up as he recovers. And Ares... ah, he is still watching me closely. In between of all these moves and everything I can see that he sits straight with such a... proud, proud look on his face. He is smiling... smiling warmly and lifting his cappuccino cup at me like saluting me... even after he puts down the glass, his eyes truly never leave me. I remember how sweet Diarmuid was with Patty. I remember how I told Ares that he belonged here. I remember how he endured everything without saying a word, only shifted because a heckler disrespected me—no, _him_ , but he was annoyed on behalf of me. So...

“... Always out like there’s no limit, feels like there’s no way back!” my faithful microphone knights still serenade me while Patty is getting more and more enthusiastic with her drums.

“Hey!” Iuchar, with his awesome baritone voice, shouts while Diarmuid and Ulster make small dancing moves as to not eclipse me. And I approach the front part of the stage, stealing Leif’s microphone as I walk so that the boys can keep singing. Leif is about to protest because that’s not on the script, but...

“Can you feel the rhythm in my heart, the beats going dum-tek-tek~!” my cheery voice colors the room as I soften my tone, hopping off the stage to reach... Ares. He gasps. I giggle a little bit, taking him with me, dragging him from the chair where he sits while Nanna signals the lighting crew to divert all the lighting on us. I take his hand. There’s clearly a burst of red shades across his cheeks when I get him to move, but regardless he awkwardly places his hands near the sides of my hips without touching them. I quickly enclasp his hands with mine. Between the belly-dancey rhythm and the merry chorus I sway and enthrall him to follow my rhythm while he clears his throat, stiffly moves back and forth with such an expression which screams _SAVE ME_ in silence _._

Finally the song is about to end, and so is my dance. I make another twist under Ares’ arm, and he, catching the sign, walks me to the stage and lifts me back there to the waiting hands of Diarmuid who blends it choreographically as if it’s all planned. I gesture at the boys, who emerge to the front part of the stage to share the spotlight with me. They bow by the time Patty finishes another pound on her drum, but when I’m about to curtsy to the audience, the boys drop to their knees, with Iuchar gleefully screaming into his mic. “The diva, folks! Lene Bragi~!”

Awh, that’s so sweet! Art folks have each other’s back indeed! Ulster helps me descending the stairs and I’m again back at the table I occupy with Ares, facing him, who is all sheepish and shy like a cub. “Sorry,” I giggle a little bit. “I told you, you belong here and I don’t want to be the only one having fun.”

“I’ve got two left legs,” he smiles. “... But that was quite fun. I mean...”

“Awww. R-really? REALLY? For real? Ares...” I beam at him.

“Yeah,” he nods, dropping a few octaves after. “... Have I ever lied to you, rabbit?”

H-he never. Ah, some people are so nice that they congratulate me! Some girls approach me, telling me that they’ve been following me on Instagram without truly knowing that I really am very much real and just an ordinary Jugdral-U student. Some take selfies with me! Wew, what is this sudden fame? Ares does not say anything as if he silently encourages me to embrace all the appreciation I got. Diarmuid hops off the stage with Ulster and Iuchar, all smirking when I thank them for their splendid performance. Ares low-key fumes because the three of them invade our table as like with Diarmuid pinching his cheeks like petting a cat, but everything is just so nice that I can’t help but smiling as well... if only we can have this moment forever... and for people to see that Ares is just Ares, not harbinger of chaos...

“I’ll get us some water from the counter,” I smile at the boys. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

“Great, my diva! My throat can use some of that!” Iuchar cheerfully nods. “Don’t take so long, though!”

“Awh, Iuchar, I won’t. Is the throat okay, though?” I look at him. If I as a dancer are wary about my legs, then him being a theater performer must have more things to worry about! And I did perform twice, but the boys and the band will be playing the entire night. I have some pastilles if he wants, though!

“Sure, darling,” he gives me an endearing smile. “I won’t bug you for too long—I’ve got a date.”

“Oooh!” I squeeze his arm. He grins, tilting his head to show that Larcei is waiting by the stage.

“Then take her here, duh,” Ares says. “Lene can use my chair when she returns later. I’m okay standing.”

“So much a hassle when she can sit on your lap instead—gah!” Diarmuid grunts because Ares not-so kindly drops his fist on the back of his head. “Bro...”

“What?” Ares deadpans.

“Uncle Eldie said there should not be any killer punches!”

“Yeah, and did you die? No?” Ares shrugs. I leave a few giggles behind, leaving the boys bickering and head-chopping as they please to get to the counter. It’s fairly lax now, perhaps because everyone who have been wanting to see the Art Night is already here, and this is also already past the usual the cafe’s business hours, anyway. The Art Night will close at around ten-thirty, so that practically leaves about an hour before the night ends. If the rundown I got from Leif was right, what’s left would be an hour full of slow-paced songs and instrumental, perfect to set up the mood or if people want to slow-dance. I wonder, can I have a word with him? About... me? I mean—I mean, about... us?

“I watched it! God, the dance was just so perfect!” Lana tackles me into a hug when I’m nearby. “Will Ares be driving you home as well? I don’t mean anything—sisters caring for each other, you know?”

“Yeah, he will! And you? With Lester or Seliph?” I muffle my giggles with my hand.

“Lester and Diarmuid like prior,” Lana smiles. “Seliph needs to pick up a family member from the airport.”

“Awww. It’s fun with Patty there, though,” I stroll closer to the counter. “Seliph, can I get some...” huh, Seliph isn’t here! He’s probably behind the door preparing more drinks. Wew, I hope the cafe anticipates a flooding customer. I can’t imagine him getting screamed at just because a customer cannot accept the fact that they run out some ingredients. Eh, no problem. I’ll just wait a little bit. After all, we’re here until the Art Night closes, anyway... and—huh?

“I can’t believe it. The audacity...”

“Showing up here as well. For real, this shit stain needs to know his place.”

Oh, wow, okay, two muscular dudes frothing near the counter like a comic book antagonists! But... hold on. Why is that sounding familiar? I have a gut feeling that I might know whom they are talking about, but pray to God that I’m wrong. I hope they’ve got beef with someone else. Well, not that I’m wishing another person’s misery considering these macho student athletes seem to be out for blood! I tap my fingers on the counter, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Come on, Seliph, out now so I can get some water and return to the boys and... and Ares...

“No shit. I came to Vantage this afternoon to register for my grading and I swear I saw his name there,” the taller and more-muscular one of them speaks again, setting a glass he just emptied on the counter. Wait—registering... grading? Vantage—g-gods, it can’t be the same building housing the local martial arts federation, so perhaps Ares... ah, I quickly hide my face. Considering people seem to start recognizing that Ares and I are close, I don’t want them to trouble him! Besides, what if they were also the hecklers from prior? Ew! But—but more importantly, then... one of them is trained? W-what if...

“Crap, I forgot to ask something,” the trained one mutters. “Gotta make sure, you know? Really, him, going to represent the school again? What the fuck is that stupid Chalphy even thinking?”

W... what?

“He’ll still be the captain of the kumite team, though.”

“Out of many tough guys here, why must it be the Black Knight? He can fight—so what?”

Oh, dear gods!! And either I’m lucky or not, Seliph’s face peeks in from behind the door. _Employees Only_ can be read plastered on it, and he is still nice to the customers despite looking pretty tired because of the crowd tonight. “Yes? Oh, a refill?” he says, glancing at the empty glass on the counter.

“That’s not bad, though,” the trained one mumbles. “Yeah, it’ll be good. And I need to talk.”

“Oh, okay. Let me grab that real quick—the dispenser is still inside,” Seliph smiles slightly, taking the glass to return to the realm behind the door. I’ve been keeping my head low, nearly breathless like I’m hiding in a trench in the middle of the war—perhaps I’ll just tell the boys that Seliph is preoccupied, perhaps that way Iuchar will grab the drinks by himself so that...

“Hey, sorry, that’s my wallet,” the other student athlete mutters, sliding to my side as he grabs a brown little-something before me. I mumble an apology as I begin to leave, when...

“Wait, you’re the earth-shaking dancer from prior!”

O—oh gods. “Y-yes?” my voice nearly dies in my throat.

“Really? You were so energetic but... hmmm, are you tired or something? So demure and meek.”

If I said yes, I wouldn’t sound so professional! “Um...”

“Shit, what is Chalphy doing there, why hasn’t my drink come out?” the trained one grumbles. Just my luck (not!) because he turns around, and... meeting my eyes. “... Hold on.”

“Eh?” h-he’s looking at me so displeased like that?

“She’s with the Black Knight,” the trained one sniffs. “My lucky day, perhaps.”

“Oi, Kempf,” the other student athlete warns. “I want no part in that. Let her go, man.”

“Too antsy, Ilios,” the trained one snickers. “Totally didn’t expect you to be the Black Knight’s bitch.”

“I am _Ares’_ WHAT?” I fold my arms, looking back at Kempf in disgust while keeping my head high. I learned this look after watching Ishtar—and to some degree, the ever-serious Olwen. The kind of regal look which makes people feel small, something Ishtar shoots at Scipio or her capo trio when they are being their asshole shelves as always. Kempf appears taken aback like he’s just been slapped—perhaps not expecting me to bite back like that. Yes, I’m not dreaming of fighting him—but if he thinks he can run his mouth like that, he’s sorely mistaken. I didn’t even let Scipio loose, especially him—who is this again anyway, insignificant to begin with! “Listen, Ares is there. You can talk to him if you really want that,” I huff. “But both of us have names. And who are you? Rather rude not to introduce yourself.”

“Bitch, listen—are you such an eyesore like he is, or...” he approaches me.

“Kempf, my dude,” Ilios sends a warning look.

“What now, Ilios—letting _another_ bitch walk over me?” he spats. “Like that bitch Olwen did?”

“Wow, you have a woman problem. Like, _you_ are the prolem,” I roll my eyes, making a quick mental note to tell Olwen to watch out for this sociopath. Is Reinhardt with her tonight?

“Yeah, I mean—I get it, Reinhardt and everything. But Olwen and now her... sorry, name?”

“Lene?” I glance at the counter. Seliph is still behind the door?

“Yeah. Well, see, it’s just that...” Ilios—or something like that—seems to eager to say something, but this overpriced expired pancake that is Kempf scoffs, either way.

“How am I supposed to even _talk_ , Ilios, everything always favors Leif and his cohorts!”

Leif? Good God, this dude seems to have a beef against everyone! What’s his problem? Did Leif and Ares steal toilet papers each time he was in the bathroom or something? ... Perhaps they should, seeing him like this. Unreasonable. I turn my back from him, feeling disgusted. First thing first—wrong complaint desk, buddy. Or perhaps you can talk to _Seliph_ about wanting to be in the team—why hating on Ares? It’s not like he’s there because he and Leif know each other. What’s your track record, kelp hair?! “Seliph...” I’m back to the counter when I feel a hand tugging on mine. “Seliph!!” I shout out of reflex.

I must have screamed louder than I intended. Seliph rushes outside, still donning an apron, carrying an extra dispenser out. His sincere smile falls upon seeing me—frowning with a pleading look that he quickly drops the dispenser while other people begin to crowd the counter—first Saias with a drink in his hand, followed by Reinhardt—remind me to tease Reinrein about that later—then Olwen craning her neck out of reflex because the people who are near the counter are tempted to look at us. Fred, another assistant professor like Saias and Arion, quickly follows suit when she does; shaking his head as if he really didn’t expect to find another troublemaker there. “Everything alright, Lene?” Seliph asks, his eyes aren’t leaving Kempf. The unknowing Leif walks up to the counter with Nanna in tow, instantly glaring at the asshole as he reflexively fences her from him.

“Why are you here, loser?” Leif barks.

“Why are you here, asswipe?!” Kempf fumes.

“Water,” I whisper to Seliph. “Just water bottles, please. Five of them.”

“I’ll send them to your table if you can wait?” Seliph says meaningfully, and I quickly nod, sparing him a thankful look. Nudging Nanna on my way back, she quickly slips her hand into mine while softly pinching Leif as if telling him to leave Kempf be.

T-that was... scary... but fortunately neither Kempf nor Ilios is seen for the rest of the night. Ares spares a faint smile when I return, sliding off his chair to give it to me. His gesture of holding the chair behind me so he can push it back in startles me, and he frowns, bending to look at me. “What’s wrong, rabbit?”

“Oh, n-nothing...”

“Nothing?” he looks at me. Nanna has been tilting her head to look at the counter twice now, perhaps truly hoping that Leif isn’t straight decking Kempf there. Ares is such in a good mood, I don’t want that to change... so to neutralize the potential—ahem, interrogation—I turn my attention at him instead.

“Um. Did the karate federation approve your application?”

Oh, Lord, his eyes truly light up. Damn that kelp loser Kempf if he ruins this one. “Yes,” he responds. His tone is still flat but that alone can’t fool me—he is happy. “I’ll take the exam on summer break.”

“You can do it,” I murmur. “Third dan—wow. Even saying that alone already gives out a strong energy.”

“It’s still a long, rocky road ahead and I only hope to fight well,” Ares says. Awh, he’s so humble. Stop being so adorable! Seliph appears as he promises with the bottled water. He sees that we’re here, and he waits patiently until Diarmuid and the musicians relaunch themselves onto the stage, emptying the table since practically there are only Ares, me, and Nanna here.

... If only the peaceful atmosphere continues, because the next thing I know Leif rushes to catch up. Perhaps he has been looking for Nanna—he grumbles, his hand is still fixing his belt. “Nanna—hun? Oh, there you are,” he sighs, relieved. “Riddle me this, Seliph—what brought Kempf there, even? He should have known that you didn’t even choose your team—it’s all determined by qualification and statistics based on field performance and grade, no? Shit-haired dude almost laid a hand on Lene for that?”

“... What?” uh-oh, Ares’ eyes are wide open.

“He cannot force his way like that, still,” Seliph senses the sudden bellicosity out of Ares that he tries to neutralize everything by speaking with a straight face. “You’ve always been one of us in the main team. He’s barely qualified, after all—if you remember the stunt he pulled on Reinhard last winter—“

“I don’t give a fuck what he tried or what he did not,” Ares glares at Seliph, cutting in. “Like it even matters at all, Chalphy. What was that, Leif—he nearly tried something on Lene or what?”

“Nothing happened,” I interfere. “And Seliph heard me, so everything is fine.”

Ares looks at me. “If something happened and you were saved then it’s not ‘nothing happened’, Lene.”

“But nothing happened,” I tell him again. “So let’s sit back and enjoy the rest of the songs...”

“No.”

“Alright then, let’s go home!” I begin to lose patience as well. Sometimes I forget that he’s still Ares with his Ares-ey flaws as well—stubborn! And yes, he gets protective at times, but can’t he see that I’m not dismissing him—it’s just that I don’t want him to concentrate on this that he forgets what’s important! So what if Kempf is green with envy? Even by people’s look I can tell that they didn’t expect him to be decent. Judging from the conversation alone he seemed to hate Reinhardt and Leif that it was almost like everything related to them personally offended him. If he wants to partake in the kumite, then why fuss now instead of—I don’t know, how does one get chosen to be in the team again?

That seems to be surprising him. He is silent as music starts playing again, drawing a crowd of slow-dancers and people comfortably resting in their seats with their groups. “... Let’s stay,” he mutters. We spend the rest of the Art Night without saying anything, with Ares looking pensive that I doubt it’s still about Kempf this time. What is he thinking? The mood changes albeit subtly. Meanwhile Lester shows his skill with the bass by dropping some mellifluous melody, playing jazz songs for the audience. His band alters between instrumental and voiced songs, lulling us all into a cozy, peaceful night perfect to end the week, welcoming real summer as the weather only gets to be hotter and hotter each day.

Ah, the atmosphere is so good. I wonder, will this be a perfect time to... oh, even Nanna and Leif are slow-dancing together, looking deep into each other’s eyes with all the giggles and chuckles shared between them. And I can’t believe Larcei gently smiles while the goofy Iuchar chuckles adorably! Ares is looking down on his phone for God-knows-why—he looks so preoccupied. “Ares,” I touch his hand.

He gasps, going alert in a split second as if someone just set off the alarm. “Kempf?”

... Sigh. Really? You are taking _me_ and yet your head is full of... fights?! Sorry for sounding selfish, but... that kind of kills my mood! It’s just saddening because even _then_ he is still like this. Like he anticipates an attack from everywhere. True that I said he wouldn’t run from the battlefield—but we’re on a date! I _do_ understand where he’s coming from, what prompted all these and everything, but can’t he just...

... He does not even notice that I’m not saying anything to follow that one up.

Regardless of Ares being... lion, I guess—the Art Night finally ends. The last song— _I’d Like to Walk Around in Your Mind_ by Vashti Bunyan—earns more than thunderous applause from the audience. Ulster’s voice owns the night while Lester’s bass reigns over it. Ares has that soft frown on his brows by the time he returns his phone into his pocket, and somehow I repeat the song in my head.

 _I'd like to walk around in your mind someday_  
_I'd like to walk all over the things you say to me_  
_I'd like to run and jump on your solitude_

... He asked what happened; perhaps I should ask _him_ what happened instead...

_I'd like to rearrange your attitude to me_

“Hey, Ares?” I try again.

“Ah. Yes?” he shifts—again, darting a quick scan against his surroundings, but quickly shuts up when I pick the other flower off the vase between us, tucking it behind his ear. “... Lene?”

“Now you too have a flower. Matching accessory~!”

“... Oh,” he relaxes a little then. Good! N-now, how do I start... how do I... _tell_...

_You say you just want peace and to never hurt anyone  
You see the end before the beginning has ever begun_

“That’s the Black Knight,” some people whisper, taking a detour as to not pass our table.

“Shit—I drop my phone—“

_I would disturb your easy tranquility  
I'd turn away the sad impossibility of your smile_

“This one?” Ares catches it before the little thing collides against the floor. The person who talked about the Black Knight goes quiet at an instant while his friends can only stand flummoxed and surprised. They mumble a vague thank you before leaving. Ares notices me still looking at him... “Why the smile?”

“Nothing!”

“People don’t smile out of nothing,” he says.

“You’re nice.”

“Just that?” he scratches his head like he’s trying to crack a code. Oh, a challenge? What if...

“No, but what if you die if I tell?” I tease.

“I’m a demon. I don’t age like a human,” he teases back. “So yes.”

“W-well! T-the truth is...” shit, my mouth feels so dry. The confession is just a layer away from my lips, yet it feels so far, far unreachable... uh-oh, Leif and Nanna are back to the stage announcing that it will be the last song for the day, thanking everyone for coming to the Art Night. Nanna makes her exeunt like Miss Universe exiting the stage, blowing a kiss while waving at the crowd.

What a grand night! The Liberation ends their performance, first by Lester sliding off the stage, followed by Ulster who grins knowing that seems Larcei and Iuchar have another agenda for the night. Diarmuid and Patty are practically glued to each other, and they exchange a few good words with me as I get out of the chair. Ah, passing by the counter Seliph mutters a thing or two about wanting to see Ares later while they are at school to discuss the tournament—with Leif in tow for sure. Altena throws her beer can into the bin, biding a goodnight with Arion. She then playfully drags Leif by his ear to get her car. It’s so nice. And thankfully neither Kempf nor Ilios is seen again as I make my exit with Ares as well. Ah, it’s perfect...

“... Are you cold?” Ares asks when we are outside.

“I’ve got my mantle, it’s okay,” I smile at him. “Are you hungry?”

“... If you do have those sausages, perhaps yes,” he scratches his head.

That makes me giggle a little bit. He loves my easy meals even though his mom is a kitchen god? Well, won’t hurt to feed him when we get back, though. Perhaps we can have a little sausage party if Coirpre is still up~! From the corner of my eyes I can see that Leif and Altena wave at me, gesturing at Ares beside me. “I think they need you,” I nudge him. “I’ll wait you at the parking lot? There are many people here, Ares—I’ll be alright. Perhaps they need you for the tournament.”

“... Okay. I’ll catch up soon,” Ares smiles back. I join Diarmuid and Nanna to the parking lot, chatting with Nanna while Diarmuid takes the steed out. Finally Diarmuid’s car leaves the venue with Febail, Patty, and Ulster filling his passenger seat as always. I can see Ares having a serious conversation with Leif and Altena—judging from his expression and how he types something with his phone. Ah, perhaps training and all the essential technicalities... now I want to see them training to offer him moral support! Wearing a small smile on my lips I head to where Ares’ car is parked. Perhaps I can tell him on the way instead, so if he rejects me, there will be no drama in my house. But if I could have a wish, t-then...

I tighten my mantle. Wew, it’s like eleven now. Is Coirpre still up? I guess I’ll just grill the sausages for Ares then while he has tea in my house. Where did we park again... ah, right, over there! Humming softly I approach the car, when...

“He’s not here,” I hear someone muttering. “He rides that stupid antique bike. It’s not here.”

“Chickened out?” another person replies. “Fuck. I thought that bitch said he was here?”

My blood freezes. T-those voices... and the degrading name I was acquainted with this evening? That can’t be. And not just that, what even are these five frat boys doing here? Is this an anti-Ares alliance or what? From the corner of my eyes I can see that Ares nods a couple of times at Altena, pocketing his phone back. The Claus siblings part ways from him as they begin to walk to the other direction where Altena parked her car, and Ares hastens his paces to get me. I’ll detain Ares so he won’t meet them then...

I turn around. And instantly meeting Kempf and Ilios—eyes to eyes, where the former glares at me. “You. You said he was here? Where? Don’t lie to me, bitch. Girls brought me nothing but trouble—“

“Kempf—“ Ilios interfenes, but Kempf bellows at him.

“What?! I’m not an idle man, darn it, he needs to hear this straight from me. And I have the support from student association including fraternity houses. That Black Knight has no respect for anything! Considering the rampant corruption by the crusaders, I know I’ll get the support I need.”

“... What are you even talking about?!” I huff. “They are the aces and selected by merit, you doofus. If you have time to vomit in your mouth like that, why don’t you get good?”

“Bitch, don’t try me—“

“What are you—!”

“I’m not taking _that_ twice. First Olwen, then you, some whore of Babylon—“

“... What did you just call her?”

Everyone is silent at an instant. Ares stands tall with such dark, dark expression on him that _gruesomely angry_ is a really mild way to describe it. I don’t have time to grab him back because he quickly steps forward like his shoulders are so close to knocking me aside because... because he smells blood. There’s that glimmer in his eyes, like he is _giddy_ —giddy because he finds the prey he’s been looking for. The people who finish last like Tirnanog workers including Seliph and Lana are pouring out, and—good, even Leif and Altena take a detour to go here instead of getting their car.

“... Kempf, is it?” Ares narrows his eyes dangerously. “Where should I start with you?”

“Oooh, here comes the hero. You are a disgrace, Nordion. Withdraw, son of a bitch—“ Kempf barks but Ares pushes his palm against a car’s windshield behind him, cornering Kempf.

“Be careful when you talk of my mother,” he says in a low tone—low, low murderous tone. “Consider this your first and last warning.”

“What’s happening... Ares?” Seliph blinks when he sees the chaotic parking lot. “... Don’t fight here.”

“Oh, but he’s standing in front of my car, alright,” Ares glares at him. “If he isn’t going to move, that’s fine with me—I’m flexible, you know. Which _bones_ do I have to begin with then?”

“Ares, no!” out of reflex I shout at him. No... he’s been making progress. If he fights here, let alone _them_ , those powerful student athletes by position... if another parking lot incident happened again like last winter... then his soul is going to sink deeper, more miserable and tormented than ever! I can’t let it happen... who would be sure if he could get out of the dungeon this time? Not like this. I hate them, but... but not like this, not at the expense of Ares’ everything as life starts working well with him. The Agustrian project. His name and honor; his mother’s catering which depends on him in a way. No...

“I don’t tolerate fighting at my store,” Seliph’s firm but neutral tone chimes in. “Leave, please. I’ve heard you talking—frankly, that disgusts me. Please stop bothering my customers.”

“Oh, corruption is rampant indeed, since you crusader highnesses act like you own this school,” Kempf sneers at Seliph. “And what if I stay? I’m a lawful customer.”

“Banned for disrupting the environment?” Seliph responds. “And if you want to be in the team, picking a fight against a potential teammate sounds like a good reason why I don’t have you in the tournament.”

“Chalphy, you—“

“Get the fuck out of here, loser,” Leif fumes. “You lost against me in the qualification round. What even the fuck are you talking about? You want to steal Ares’ seat, then win it instead of _whine_ it.”

“What, the crusaders are ganging up against me now?” Kempf mutters bitterly. “He doesn’t belong here. Who wanted him anyway, he’s as good as dead! Bitch, what now, you slept with the three of them or—“

“Shut up!” I slap him. O-oh gods, I _did_ slap him! I’m filled with rage now. “If you’re curious, no,” I grit my teeth while he recovers. “Perhaps it’s time to grow up instead of blaming women for all the problems you encounter in life, you pig. Get out—Ares is a disgrace? What are you then—wasted birth?!” Altena whistles. Leif grins hearing my temper taking care of the course while Seliph tries to keep his face serious as his eyes twinkle as well. T-this is not the time to admire me, folks!

Kempf glares even fiercer at me, like getting opposed by a woman is the most abominable thing to ever happen in his life. “You want to play tough? Come here so I can give you the taste of your own medicine.”

I must have been staring at him with my mouth open, truly in disbelief that he really threatened me like that. I wasn’t even slapping him like, with power like I did mean to one-hit KO him with it—it was purely for shock value, because he just would not stop hurdling insults at everyone else. Everything he spoke of Ares is—cruel and it broke my heart just to listen to him! But this Kempf dude really looks super mad! I really was just to make it clear to him that he is not going to push me around by threatening me like that when... when Ares cuts in. “So can I,” he mutters dismissively while his eyes truly signal murder. “If you hurt the girl, I’ll _kill_ you.”

Kempf pauses where he stands, looking intensely at Ares from head to toe like he is trying to see if Ares actually meant it or not. It’s probably subtle, but for me—at least this close—it’s still there; like he shrinks when Ares stands straight and menacing before him like that. I wait thinking something is about to happen, but thankfully—no. Kempf huffs, looking like a defanged beast now that I castrated eighty percent of his dignity with Ares inviting him to a bloodbath like that. “... Don’t think it’s over, Black Knight,” he hisses. “You’ll see your own rejection notice the first in the morning.”

“There will be no such a thing,” Seliph stares _down_ at Kempf. “Leave, please. For God’s sake.”

Kempf does leave with Ilios awkwardly following suit. We can hear those student athletes arguing with themselves as they rush to get to their cars—like how it backfires; how they are supposed to be able to discourage Ares from competing because of the points they think legit if only Kempf did not botch it by being scared shitless before Ares like that. Meanwhile Kempf sorely denies that he is scared—it’s just that he did not expect Ares’ friends will corner him or for Seliph to actually step in. And for real, I want to laugh cynically now—he _is_ scared, alright, he did not expect Jugdral-U’s aces to stand up for Ares. Somehow I feel this... emotion. Like, this will be different compared to that harsh winter and unforgiving spring where Ares started the semester with pain and rejection. This time people would...

“... Why?” Ares’ heavy exhale startles me. “Why did you... and _you_ —“ he darts a vicious look at Seliph. “Why are you always in my way, Chalphy? Why are you treating me like a child?!”

“Definitely not! How could you think of such a thing?” Seliph gapes.

“Ares, we were just...” Leif tries to speak, but Ares holds up his hand.

“... Yes. Must be it, no? Because I’m this outcast you need to civilize so that I will not go on rampage, running amok like a beast? Because by having this villain I’m tarnishing your stellar reputation, Chalphy?”

“... How did... Ares, why...” Seliph opens his mouth, like he is desperately trying to say something—no, anything, anything at all, but nothing comes out because he looks so shocked. Even Leif gapes and Altena goes so silent like she is taken aback; her expression is so remorseful as if someone just died.

“Then what is it?!” Ares bellows, so brutal that Altena gasps out of reflex. “Quit toying around, Chalphy!”

“I think of you as a friend!” Seliph raises his voice as well. Frustration brims on his face that it’s almost like—almost like he is just so, so disturbed and hurt that he wants to cry. But instead of this anger for being accused by Ares, there’s more pain if not agony in his voice—as if he is hurt not because Ares regards him with enmity, but rather... he is hurt because Ares feels this way. “I never think of you any less than that. You are a part of us here, ring or no ring—just like the friendship shared by our parents.”

“Parents!” Ares counters even louder, stormier... like his soul is being ripped to shreds. “Don’t you _dare_ bringing that point at my face. How could you? How _fucking_ could you?!”

“Regarding that, there is something you need to know—“

“Silence, Chalphy. Let’s finish this like men!”

“... With stupidity, you mean?” I cannot stand this anymore—I chimed in. Literally almost everyone present at the moment gasps so loud that they all turn their heads to look at me, with Ares and Seliph being no exception at all. I swear I did not want to interrupt, but it pains me so much to see Ares in so much pain like that, and I... I have to do something before that pain actually hurts others... no, _himself_ even more. Seliph does not want this. And Ares needs a good talk and a hug, not... not another... fight...

Meanwhile Ares looks at me. Disbelief is perhaps a mild way to describe his expression, or as I read it—annoyance, perhaps; it’s just that he does not want to lash at me too. “... Step aside, please,” he says.

“No,” I make my voice light but my gaze is sharp still. “Let’s go home?”

“... Lene,” he repeats, as if warning me.

“Teammates do not strike each other, did I hear it right?” I fold my arms. “Come on, Ares. Let’s just...” I waste no time herding him back into the car while Seliph glances at his watch.

“I need to pick up my family from the airport, Ares.”

“... Very funny,” Ares mutters under his breath. “Running again, aren’t you...”

“I have no need to run away from a friend,” Seliph responds firmly, nodding a little bit like he is bowing before walking up to retrieve his car while Leif and Altena follow suit to get theirs, looking absolutely relieved but drained regardless. Faintly I can hear Altena cannot resist to scold Leif for triggering the lion in the Lion for mentioning Kempf. Leif argues that he thinks Ares needs to know of the possible danger—no, disturbance, regardless, and Altena mumbles something about being too exhausted to argue since there’s a father she will need to answer to at home for going on a date with Arion—or as she put it, _Uncle Travant’s son_.

Ares pauses, looking so heartbroken like... like he loses his willpower right there. He blankly walks to get his car without saying anything else. I get in as well. This silence is deafening... even worse than that, _suffocating._ He does not bother to even turn on the radio; and I cannot help but remembering how nice and—intimate—the atmosphere was when we went. How did it become like this? How...

A red light halts the car. I’m not even sure if it’s for better or worse because—because part of me just wants to go home since I’m not interested to argue with him even more, but another part of me wishes to have a conversation with him just so he understands why I did what I did. It does not matter if he disagrees still; after all I just need him to know that... that we actually care about him so much, so...

“... Lene?”

“Ah! Yes?” his voice startles me. And... and he pauses again. Like he regretted startling me! “Um. I-it’s okay. You were so pensive and suddenly you spoke, s-so. I mean—I mean, you did not scare me.”

“I see...” he mumbles, following that up with a sigh. “... Did Kempf...”

“No, he did not hurt me,” I whisper to him.

“Thank God,” he sighs even deeper and somber. There is another silence looming over us; neither of us says anything else anymore even as the car moves again due to green light, or when it makes turns and detours to get to my apartment. This silence is even worse by the time the car pulls into my apartment, to the basement, where there is some considerable seconds where we just sit without looking at each other or saying anything even though Ares has stopped the car. I want to talk to him. At the same time I’m also exhausted—and a little bit angry. Why is he so... strict? As in, so stubborn like this...

He simply taps the steering wheel without doing anything else, so I make a motion to get out of the car. “Thank you,” I tell him as I get out to reach for the elevator which will take me upstairs.

“No, wait—I’ll walk you to the door,” he quickly follows suit.

“... Perhaps you better not,” sighing, I try to contain the storm in my chest. “See you at school.”

“I’ll walk you,” he says still. Why is he so persistent?! “I picked you up by the door. Only fair if...”

“Only fair if you clear your head a little,” I force a smile then. What _actually_ just happened? Everything was so good. He enjoyed this night. And then... a-and then...

“What do you mean?” Ares frowns now. “I am not going to pick a fight with you!”

I can see that remnants of the flames are still there. After all, I took him straight out of the arena before a conflict broke out. It’s so frustrating, how do I just... “Are you sure?”

He looks so taken aback being asked like that. But I’ve tried—I’ve tried to stop him clashing with Seliph, stopping him from jeopardizing every effort he is making to fix everything. I never meant to tell him how to live his life, but... but it pains me seeing him like this. Because I know he does not actually fancy living like this—if he is completely beyond any hope, he will be nothing but a daft ignoramus. Why is it so hard to make him see that it’s clear to the closest people to see that he is hurting? Suddenly faces of our mutual friends manifest in my mind—a sad, sad Seliph, a _scared_ Altena, a frustrated Leif... and her mother back home worrying so much about him but prefers to keep quiet because she understands that he will only withdraw into his shell to disappear. And on top of that, he is a kind person—so, so kind that... that I wish it would just... stay that way, not... actually falling into the misery pit set by other people, set by his own trauma and everything. It’s just...

“... What... are you talking about?” he whispers, like all his strength is drained because I said that.

“... I nearly did not recognize you at the parking lot,” I whisper back. “You said you were okay, yet...”

“I am not when it concerns you—are we having this conversation, for real?” he spreads his arms apart, frustrated and... yes, irritated now. “That Kempf nearly laid a hand on you and I’m supposed to take it like it was nothing? Not even when it was actually me that he got a beef with?”

“I told you I was okay and he did not do anything!” this is frustrating. Can you shut up—my God, yes, yes you are right; why are we having this conversation again— _no,_ now that you are displeased because I pulled you out of fights—yes, fights!—before either you or Seliph destroy each other like that? Can’t you see what I’m trying to say here, and why must you act like this, as if it destroys your honor more than anything? Can’t you—can’t you _listen_?! “Seliph was out when I called for him, and...”

“You called for Seliph,” he frowns even deeper, folding his arms.

I look at him in disbelief. “... Yes? Out of reflex, because I didn’t see anyone else I know around? When I was about to get the water bottles for you and the boys?”

“You wouldn’t call for him if you weren’t feel so threatened—and yet you acted like everything was okay, like—like hiding from me. Why, Lene? It’s like you protected me from him—I assure you, unnecessary!”

“Gods, that’s not what I meant! Can you think of anything else besides fighting?!” I nearly yell at him now. Why is he like this? How on earth could he think this way? And gods, that hurts. I trusted him! I have always been, dammit, if only he knew!

“Perhaps because that’s the only thing I’m good at and known for, no?” he chuckles bitterly. His sharp tone and sarcastic reply feel like a razor cut over my skin, and it—hurts. “Why must you lie, Lene?”

“Lying? What are you talking about?!”

“What are _you_ talking about then?” he raises his voice as well, startling me. His expression goes instantly crestfallen upon noticing how startled I am, and it looks like—looks like he is thrown between wanting to punch the wall or himself first. “... Am I so pathetic that I’m not even allowed to _try_ to protect you?”

“When did I say that?”

“Then why?”

Again, I fold my arms, eyes nailing his deeper than the sea because I’m so, so frustrated. I hate this. Can he wake up and smell the coffee? Can he be _real_ for a second, that I’m concerned for him?! We stand like that for a good solid minute at the corridor near the elevator—so much that the couple who live at this floor instantly grab each other and act like they did not see us considering how tense we are. “I do not like you doing that,” finally I muster my reply, voice low containing a warning.

“Doing what?” he responds. There’s nothing but displeasure in there and I wish I could just smack him to oblivion so everything would be over and all would be well again when I wake up.

“I trusted you—why must you be so dumb?” exasperated, I exhale. Perhaps it’s unwise to call him a name but—but at this point, that sums up everything I think, my eloquence be damned. “Exactly because I never saw you as a killing machine to begin with! Can’t you listen what _we_ are trying to tell you? Seliph is concerned too, and the rest are wary to tell you knowing well you would...”

“Seliph, Seliph, Seliph—what is it about him that you constantly exalt him before me like that, even after everything I told you?!” he is close to bellowing now. “So am I not only pathetic but _weak_ too in your eyes—or in everyone’s eyes as well? Is that it? You people _fear_ of me getting defeated by him that...”

“Stop. It ends here,” I hold up my hands. “I cannot take this anymore. You are delirious.”

“This is ridiculous!”

“You are!! I swear to God, you are!” I turn around, feeling like throwing him flat against the floor now. “Do you—“ in a fit of anger I point at him, and then back at me—“—think that I’m so shallow _like you_ that I fuss over who can stand the last in a fight and not—not something else?”

“Something else—like what?!”

“Like your well-being!”

“I don’t understand, so by the Devil, would you please start explaining already?!”

“I _am_ talking, if only you would listen!”

“Am I not right now?”

“No. You never—not tonight.”

“... Stop speaking in riddles.”

“Then shut up first!”

“Lene!!”

“Do not yell at me,” I mutter under my breath. “And you will wake Coirpre up.”

“What... is it that I am lacking then?” he arches his back, frustrated to hell and back.

“You do not,” I answer. “Stop thinking in such binary—it’s not about who makes a better karateka.”

“Lene, Chalphy is...”

“... Unwilling to fight you, like he tried telling you again and again in which you kept refusing to listen,” my sharp tone successfully silences him. “Ares, you cannot run from Seliph forever.”

“Excuse me?” he arches forward. With his posture and height, it’s almost like he is nearly swallowing me. “Last time I checked some lady kept preventing me from _not_ running away from him.”

“You are.”

“Oh?” he cocks an eyebrow—truly, truly irked now. There’s that twitch around his eyebrows like he just got stung, so needless to say, I catch another emotion from him—he feels _insulted._ “If the princess disbelieves me, this craven cur can show you that, at all, is not the case.”

“... You shall not do such a thing,” I warn. I’m exhausted. What should I do—slapping him for real? “Do not call yourself that ever again. You cannot settle everything wtih your fists like that—it’s unhealthy!”

“Oh but I can. A person sheds blood, especially if you hit him hard,” he looks straight into my eyes as if taunting—no, challenging me. “Sure, it’s unhealthy. And that will be Seliph after he gets to see me.”

“... What happened to the Ares I know?”

“And what happend to the Lene whom I thought to be... understanding?” he hisses back.

“Good gracious fucking Lord—there is nothing but vengeful anger you have right now and I want to stop you before you regret everything you shall do later—can’t you see that it pains me seeing you like this? You’ll end up in the same misery pit again and again if you keep running away!“

“I am NOT running away!”

“You are! You are, by only wanting to fight him!”

“That isn’t running away? How come you suggest me to joust words with him when...” he growls. “Need I remind you that his father nearly took everything I have, Lene?!”

“His father,” I fold my arms. “Not him.”

“Lene...”

“His father, whom your very own father maintains warm contact with.”

“... Last warning, Miss Bragi.”

“Or you will what?!” I don’t care anymore—I am really shouting at his face now. I am so tired, tired of talking to people who never listen—to _men_ who never listen. “Have you ever thought that the situation could have been worse, Ares? Like—like what if it was Seliph who nearly lost his father during that accident... no, if it was Seliph who _lost_ his father there, instead of you? If he decides to hunt you down like the way you are doing now? If you in turn find yourself in the position where you are filled with too many, too many emotions for taking the brunt of things you did not even do—like him now, in a situation easily reversed where... where he could be the one on the losing side, even more so, where you could lose your father! Please, Ares—this isn’t you,” sighing heavily I begin to glance at my door, hoping Coirpre is deathly asleep that he does not catch that I’m arguing outside with him here, feeling so drained and exasperated.

“I never thought you would play lawyer for the Chalphies either. And I am not me?”

“Ares, look...”

“Say that suddenly there was this scenario like you said. Am I supposed to feel sorry—NOW?”

I look at him. It is there—the glint of vengeful, vindictive anger, like he just wants the last word, and honestly... that... that sounds sadistic. I cannot take this anymore. If he will not listen, then alright, destroy yourself even more, I’m just going to sleep! Or perhaps that’s all he cares about! I really want to say more, but at the same time I do not—that’s enough for today, and if he insists to keep being stupid, then his privilege, be my guest! “You know what—Ares, you are stupid!” my voice feels like a bomb exploding in the middle of this silent corridor. “You won’t at least listen. So why don’t we forget we even know each other? Yes, destroy Seliph, considering you are a coward who won’t even _dare_ to talk to him and prefers to solve his problems with a fist. Perhaps I did not know you indeed!”

“... It’s not that I...”

“Yes, whatever—in the end you are still like this, anyway. Good night, Ares.”

“Lene!”

“No—!“ I turn around. Out of reflex my hand flies sharply across his face the moment he touches my shoulder to keep talking to me. He is so stunned where he stands—heartbroken, shocked like... like he personally laid a hand on me. Meanwhile I cup my mouth with that hand—equally startled that I just—slapped him for real; thrown between feeling distressed because he is _still_ like that, alright—and cursing myself because my temper could have chosen a better target to prey on to; after all this night everything started because he wanted to protect me, and yet...

... And yet he fell for it again, didn’t he? Kempf, the Seliph he looked at in disgust despite—

I’m so shaken. I—I made a mistake didn’t I... but if not like this, how should I...

“... I will take my leave,” Ares murmurs—softly, way, way too soft for an Ares. Not even when we got close he had such tone and voice. “Thank you so much for everything you have done for me so far.”

What is that... supposed to mean...?

I’m shaking and trembling and and and—

“I am sorry for the distress I’ve caused you. Good night,” he bows like... like conveying farewell?

... H-he truly is. He spares a pained smile before turning away to get back to the elevator. His steps are long and soundless as usual although his shoulders kind of slump by the time he enters the elevator. Everything around me is so blank-white and full of background noises at the same time as I just as blankly reach to my door, inserting my keys, to the sleepy Coirpre who rubs his eyes with a glass of water in hand.

“Sis...? Oh, you are back? I’ve reheated the food from Coach N...”

I do not remember what I said to him—only something akin to “Tired,” with a blank stare as I reach for my own bedroom door. Closing it faintly I drop my weight to the bed, unbothered to turn the light on. I lay still in my bed, staring blankly at the darkness around me; at the unseen ceiling engulfed by it. How did it become like this, where did everything go wrong, what should I—

“Are you sure you don’t need a drink? Sis?” Coirpre knocks on my door again.

I lay still. Ares—me—fight—Seliph—Art Night—what...

“Oh, you are asleep already? I’m sorry! Didn’t know you were that exhausted...”

I can hear faint footsteps abandoning the door. Coirpre must have retreated to his own room then. Yes, Coirpre, I don’t need anything. I slapped two people tonight and—and doing so made my bones feel like breaking out of all the sadness. What is this stabbing, throbbing pain? I...

... Ares—

And perhaps, this is my life—going to bed in tears, only that this time it is _for_ a man instead of because of one.

* * *

Coirpre keeps looking at me in the entire morning. Can’t blame him—my face is probably looking worse than a refrigerated zombie right now. Why is everything feeling so... bleak? Why am I so heartbroken like this? It’s supposed to be easy—I mean, previously, no other guy ever made me feel so...

... And this one turns out to be stupid too. Why are they, always? Where did everything go wrong? I did not remember what time I fell asleep, even more so of the time when I woke up. One thing I know is that the sun appears too strong and blinding and that my head is pounding. Why do I feel so drained and exhausted? And all this is because of... a man? Because of Ares? Supposedly I’d just tell him what he has to know even though he may not be a fan of it. But even then, why does my chest hurt exactly when I called him stupid and everything else? It’s like trying to break a board—you mean to convey how frustrated you actually are, but end up hurting yourself instead. And perhaps that exactly is what happened between me and Ares...

Coirpre’s voice calling my name nearly escaped me. There’s smoke coming out of the microwave, and I’m more than startled when he hurriedly pulls the switch. I am still standing like a statue—blankly but not so much, because I wish I could just go back to bed and...

... And oh, God—I nearly set my own kitchen ablaze. Coirpre is still spinning back and forth around me to salvage the microwave including our breakfast toasts in it, but...

“Sis? ... Sis!” he nearly yells by my side, catching the tea mug I was so close to drop as well. Startled, I look at him—there has to be this dumbfounded look on my face because he keeps looking at me, frowning and even having this _scared_ expression . “Are you... unwell?”

That gives me an idea.

“I suppose...” I mutter weakly, landing myself in our sofa. “Say, Coirpre—can you commute alone today?”

“This is strange. You’ve never been like this before,” Coirpre murmurs, trying to feel my forehead. “You aren’t having a fever though.”

“Mmm. I feel so weak.” That isn’t exactly a lie—I do. And on top of that I guess I’m super sad, too sad to even want to do anything else but lying in bed again, looking at the ceiling pensively. Coirpre gives me a concerned look again before he gives up.

“Perhaps you should stay inside today,” he says. “I can’t believe you overworked yourself.”

“I guess so as well,” I nod then. This feels so... corny... am I experiencing a broken heart then? I wonder why my chest only gets to feel tighter and tighter, like I can choke out of feeling so suffocated. Like... like there is a part of me that says _to some extent_ I did the right thing because Ares needs to hear that before his unhealthy anger consumes himself. Yet at the same time, there is... regret? Like wondering if I should have—and could have—handled the situation better. It had to be a hellish life to live if a sight of Seliph itself already rattles Ares to the bones like that, and he holds back most of the time exactly because... perhaps deep down inside he actually understands that he... should not?

... And I was so close with him. So, so close. And now...

“Um, Sis, I’m off to school now,” Coirpre looks at me reluctantly before grabbing his set of keys on the counter. “Ummm. Eh. Lene, I...”

“Awh. What’s wrong, Coco? Another classmate trouble?” I draw him in to ruffle his hair.

“N-no. Nobody bullied me ever since. Actually, I start blending in well,” he says sheepishly. “It’s just...”

“Yeees~?”

Coirpre fidgets with his shirt. Suddenly he scoops all the ingredients I cooked—including everything he saved from the smoking microwave. Huh, he is building me quite a size of a platter! What, he wants to share a breakfast plate with me, or... “Please eat,” he mutters. “Anyway... eh.”

“Hnnn? Eh?” repeating, I copy his tone and expression, giggling a little bit. Ah, that kind of takes away the fog over my mind a little bit. If only my head would not be so... cloudy...

“Don’t laugh at me, meanie,” Coirpre pouts at me. “I just... p-please get well soon!”

“... Coirpre?” I look at him as he bows a little bit, as if presenting the plate to me!

“You are the only family I have left,” he murmurs. “I do not want to lose you.”

“Nooope. There’s mother...”

“Who left and isn’t here with us—who has never been with me when I went through things,” Coirpre counters, making me wince. I know he did not mean to be harsh, but at the same time he spoke nothing but truth. And Coirpre has every right to feel that way about our family. It’s during times like this I wish it would be so easy to believe in miracles, because... because if not for me, then for him. Because he’s a child, and I do not want to see his faith shattering that life will get better and that our mother actually loved us; that she did not leave us alone in the care of an orphanage exactly because she loved us.

“Awh, Coirpre, I understand,” to lighten the situation I muster a cheery tone. “After all I’m not sick.”

“But you said you felt so weak,” he insists.

“Mm-hmmm. And that’s common to be exhausted after giving a total performance, hnnn~?” softly, I pinch his nose. “Go catch your train. Otherwise, you’re gonna be late~!”

“Okay. Promise you will eat, though~! I will be home with chicken tenders!” he flexes his muscles.

I send him to the door with my eyes, trying my best to flash my stage-trained smile at him. Looking at the sizeable breakfast plate Coirpre fixed for me, my chest feels tight again. I don’t feel like eating—heck, I don’t even particularly hungry. But I force myself to grab a bite just so not to waste Coirpre’s effort and care for me. Why is the food tasting like sand? God, I’m not... actually sick, aren’t I? I cannot believe that being so sad and dejected—depressed—whatever you call this—can feel so real like this. I mean, this is so intense that I can feel like I’m physically in pain, for containing all this emotion. So I take the plate with me to my room, thinking that I may be able to finish everything at last as the day goes by; after all, even if I do not want to, I’m sure my stomach can appreciate some food.

... Does Ares... feel as sad as I do now?

I’m back to my room, under the protective coziness of my own blanket. Sighing softly I try to bask in the comfort it provides as I close my eyes trying to go back to sleep. Ah, so warm. So cozy. So comforting. Like the hug I did not know I badly needed until it was there, coming for me. Like the right kind of touch I did not know I desperately wanted to have a trust in but never found, until—

... Just like Ares’ arms. Just like his embrace...

... How could I feel so heartbroken of someone who isn’t even... mine? Our fight goes through my mind again, but instead of the fight itself, this time it’s his figure, turning away to get to the elevator, leaving me. Why is everyone in my life gone after giving me a touch of... love? My mother—Ares—

... Ares...

_... Mom..._

I play with my phone under the blanket. I’m supposed to go back sleeping, but why is it that my eyes just do not want to follow being commanded to sleep? I’m exhausted. So, so exhausted that I’m in between of wanting to bawl my eyes out, biting into my pillow and... and doing nothing. After all, isn’t that what I am supposed to be? Cheerful dancer, the embodiment of art; she who lifts spirit and lightens the mood. I am supposed to be the medicine, not making a sad view out of myself, aren’t I? ....

Huh, updates flow like musical tunes when I mindlessly check on my Instagram. Wow, what a merry morning! The cooking accounts I follow have been posting recipes—be it breakfast ideas or cakes they baked the night prior. As for my friends—ah, as fun and lively as always. Iuchar took a selfie while he was... huh, slipping over a banana peel?! And there is one from Larcei! Wew, where was this? It looks so good! The background involves some kind of glow in the dark starry setup in a tent, featuring grilled marshmallow pieces on a stick, classic campfire snack. Lana posted an update—a selfie of her with a cuddly devon rex kitten, smiling and satisfied. Even Leif posted a photo of him in tracksuit when the sky was still dark. Seliph posed before a pile of thick books, smiling with a half-dead undertone on his face. Fee uploaded a photo of a huge pastrami sandwich with two forks on the plate.

 _Only let the world see you while you are at your best—even if you aren’t,_ Iuchar’s caption says. Right, right, a _photogenic_ picture of someone who is seconds away from landing face-flat on the pavement. Oh, Iuchar. Never change, darling! _Poopy breakfast,_ Fee’s caption reads—oooh, bold move from the girl who used to tease me making lion-sized platter for a lion cub! _Art Night continued,_ Larcei’s caption says. Aha, who did she have it with? And... sweet Lana just sweetly stitched a kitten which got attacked by a stray adult! Goodness, I guess now I have the reason to really cry...

Out of the most recent updates I just saw, however, Seliph’s and Leif’s caught my attention the most. Leif posted something about going for a round or so as he called it, because he wants to be fit and proper for the upcoming kumite. Seliph talked about slamming two weeks of workload in advance because that way he would be ready when the martial arts matches begin.

And Ares...

I’m feeling thrown in between. Why, even tapping his profile feels so hard to do. But I’m... curious...

... No. Better not. Mom, I love a man—

_And he hates me now._

* * *

 

Well, well, of course I cannot wallow in my sadness like this! Sooner or later I need to accept the fact that there _is_ a friction between me and Ares, and whether I was right or not, there is a moat between us now. It just feels weird not to lay in bed and texting him as we do often lately. It kind of feels weird not to wake up to a morning text from him somehow. Like... like something is amiss! I found myself rereading the conversations we exchanged through Instagram direct message feature, and somehow I kind of... miss that? Like, something just... just feels incomplete. As if I’m living a life that isn’t mine. Who am I and what day is it today again? Hnnn. Are these even... important?

... Why isn’t Ares...

Oh, dear God. This is so ridiculous! Did I expect him to _argue_ with me?! On top of that—why now? Do not check his profile, Lene. Don’t. What if I see something I do not want to see there? Is he giving me a silent treatment? H-hold on. Supposedly there shouldn’t be anything left to discuss after that night. Yet...

... Do I... miss him?

Goshdangit, I accidentally tapped his profile since my fingers have been sitting idly over the screen. Just tap back. Like, yeah, that was accidental. Does not mean I shouldn’t look further. Besides, his social media game is weak anyway. He does not post as often as I do, perhaps he uses Instagram out of convenience to get in touch with the people he connect with—considering he is pretty aloof, this way he can contact people when necessary without having to give out his number.

... But now that I’m here on his profile, why not take a look?

S-sigh. Why am I so weak-willed?! At the same time, supposedly everything is over, so like, this should not even bother me! ... Right?

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Slide more for process captures. Comments are greatly appreciated._

I—

... He posted ten photos of... what, omelette? Fried rice—oooh, omelette rice—omurice, isn’t it? Is this for Lionheart Kitchen? But why didn’t this go on @ _lionmeals_ instead? There has to be a conspiracy!

... In an... omelette? Aaah, what am I thinking? Why even is this making my head spin?! I’m not supposed to think about him! Who cares if he made food to help his mother? Haha, what did he put there even—what do lion demons put in their food again? Fleeting hopes and dreams? The cries of their enemies?

 **_heyimnotaplant_ ** _I-is that... YOURS??? **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Yeah. **@heyimnotaplant**_

 **_gaebolg_ ** _Omg really?? :OO What did you put there? **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Shredded chickens. **@gaebolg**_

 **_lightprincess_ ** _Oooh it looks so pretty! ^^ Truly is the Lionheart Kitchen’s son! **@anblacknight**_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Pretty? **@lightprincess** _

**_lightprincess_ ** _Yes!! The egg fold is so neat! Did you taste it? :O **@anblacknight** _

**_anblacknight @lightprincess_ ** _I did. Tasted like shit like wet socks._

 **_lightprincess @anblacknight_ ** _..._

 **_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _P-please tell me the truth I think of you as a brother ARE YOU HUMAN_

 **_anblacknight @dialdfordiarmuid_ ** _Ah, so it’s not supposed to taste like that?_

 **_dialdfordiarmuid @anblacknight_ ** _IT IS SUPPOSED TO TASTE LIKE FOOD, BROTHER, HUMAN FOOD_

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Perhaps I should ask Auntie Lach for help? **@lightprincess @dialdfordiarmuid**_

 **_lionmeals @anblacknight_ ** _... Son, this is Dad. Listen—DO NOT._

 **_lionmeals_ ** _**@anblacknight** Did you take my shoe polish, my cub? I can’t find it anywhere! –Mom._

 **_anblacknight @lionmeals_ ** _... So that was not... soy sauce? Mom? ... Mother dearest?_

Sigh—see, Diarmuid, your cousin is _very_ human, I guess, which explains why he is very dumb.

Alright, that should answer it—he isn’t sad like I am now, and seems he is having fun with his life, so much that he even tried to make food. I guess I’m the dumb one here, huh? I’ll always be. I will—

... Sigh. Again. Why is looking at something so innocent and simple—not to mention, dumb—only makes my chest feel... tight? And not only that—tighter. Oooh, gosh. D-did I just... secretly wish he was as sad as I am now? I feel so deranged. B-but brutally honest...

... No. Nothing matters now.

... And I already felt like this even in the morning as I got to dress up—no sunshine! My closet appears so ugly and uninteresting compared to recently where picking up outfits seem to be so... interesting somehow. Especially during the days with the possibility of encountering Ares or when I’m hanging out with him. Speaking of whom, would I be seeing him at the corridor as usual? I kind of do not want to. I mean, I want to, but at the same time I kind of—do not want to talk to him, you see?

... God. And I called him a coward...

Either my luck or the universe decides to hide ourselves from each other! In the entire morning I did not see Ares at all around the corridor. At first I thought he was late, considering we bumped into each other often lately. But by the time I’m having my second course, there is still no sight of Ares around the building or at the corridors at all! His arrival is easy to spot on even though he moves and walks around quietly—at least the crowd around him will tell, considering they will either drop dead fleeing or talking to him like trying to appease a... beast. I did not see him at all until school ended today, and wow—this one too, I can’t believe I haven’t seen him! So considering this is Wednesday, practically I haven’t caught his nose at all around campus since Monday rolled in. I wonder why I get so restless like this—staring out of the window like some kind of... longing person. Oh, God—and I teased Lana about Seliph...

Nearly everything Saias is talking during this lecture escaped me. We are back to kinesiology o’clock, and he seems to realize that his presentation is too dull. What he proposed is actually engaging enough—to do a panel discussion. So he will throw a topic and we can have a death match—ahem, I mean, some kind of a debate about it. Everyone commenting will get some extra points, and those who raise their hands to take on his direct, mini quizzes can scrub for points as well. This idea practically snaps everyone out of their zombified condition, changing into... yes, half of my classmates have the kind of look like they just got drafted into Battle Royale without consent while the other half fantasize of flying out of an army helicopter without a parachute. Saias seems to understand that his idea both shocked _and_ terrified people to the bone marrows, so he quickly adds that there will be no penalty-whatsoever.

“Honestly, I understand,” he says as he turns his back to write something on the whiteboard. “We are all human. We get tired and exhausted every once in a while. And most of you did the Art Night, correct?”

“Nice. So for today—“ Iuchar chirps. Saias, however, swiftly turns away, vanquishing him with a smile.

“No. And yes, the quizzes stay!”

Iuchar groans while I sigh. Something catches my attention. Iuchar slides a note at me!

 _Sick_?—It says. _You have been heaving with sorrow multiple times! Wherefore art the cause?_

I simply smile at him without bothering to reply it.

Lunch break rolls in nearly without me caring about it. What month is this again... why is it so cold and bleak like I’m in some kind of Russian winter in literature? What will come next, seeing Doctor Zhivago collapsing and dying before me? Yeah, that sounds legit. The corridor is bustling with hungry harpies—ahem, half-dead students wanting to grab a lunch before enslaving themselves in studies and course work again. Fee and Larcei emerge from other classrooms, waving at me. There is no Lana this time in the building, and somehow—somehow I cannot help but ask. “Where is she then?”

“Perhaps a lunch date with our Selly,” Fee grins. “What else?”

“And why are you looking like a trampled caravan?” Larcei frowns at me.

“Good question,” I have stopped counting how many times I sighed today.

“Then, let’s get the good answer,” Fee smirks while Larcei nods. My friends haul me to the cafeteria and... let’s just say what I wanted to escape from turns out to be... something I need as well. I’ve never thought that I’d be sitting here with friends to... actually vent about a guy. And I mean, a guy _I like._ Alright, more than like, perhaps. And the first time in my life, I really wanted to turn back time.

“It’s just that...” what is this sudden hesitation? I’m poking my food, feeling at loss of words all of a sudden. Now that come to think of it—am I... am I not as clean as I think I am? Or is this simply my regret because deep down I wish things would not have to go... like this? Inhaling deeply, I put down my fork, looking at my friends in their eyes. “T-tell me. Am I... am I the asshole? Don’t lie to me. Please.” They do not say anything as I told them what happened after Art Night. It feels so scary to tell them everything—but at the same time I feel so relieved! “I mean, I still think that he needs to hear that, but...”

“But somehow you felt that it wasn’t right?” Fee touches my shoulder and I can only nod.

“Then go talk to him,” Larcei makes a finger-gun gesture at me. “Tell Ares what you _truly_ wanted to say. If you feel like you’ve been unfair with him, then simple—admit that you were frustrated that night that you said things you did not mean to. Or like, you know, you were mean when you did not mean to be.”

“... Perhaps he hates me...”

“Oh, c’mon. And this is from the girl who kept urging her friends to be honest with themselves?” Larcei grips my shoulders warmly. “Lene, if it wasn’t because of you and Ares, I wouldn’t... I mean—Iuchar...”

I blink.

“You made me think that love is worth it,” suddenly she smiles kindly. “Like, there might be challenge ahead and of course Iuchar will not always be sweet all the time, but it is still worth journeying.”

“Awww!”

“Yeah. Couples have disagreement at times, though. There’s a difference between disagreement and fighting,” Fee purses her lips. “Really, though—if anyone can talk something through that lion demon that is Ares, that person must be you.”

“But that night he was... he was so callous and unyielding and...”

“Perhaps he was shocked?” Fee cocks an eyebrow. “It’s not like everyday that he got to have a sweet, sweet caring badass rabbit orbiting around him who tells him what he needs to know, you see...”

“And brutal honesty takes time to soak in, no?” Larcei smiles. “... Heh, perhaps I shouldn’t be the one talking. I didn’t realize I’ve actually liked Iuchar for a while that it disgruntled me so much that I kept being mean to him instead. Strangely—and feel free to contest me, Lene—somehow there is comfort to just... yield. Like—like you know your heart is safe. And it is okay to make mistakes.”

I look at Larcei.

“Honestly, I don’t even think that we collectively agree that you are wrong,” Fee chuckles. “And honestly, I don’t even think that _he_ too thinks you are wrong.”

“I don’t think that’s the case,” I pout.

“Oh, really~? Since when are you his mind reader?” Fee pokes my cheek.

“I am usually spot-on!” my face feels burning now. Hnnn!

“Then perhaps that’s what he has been doing these past few days,” Larcei cuts in silkily. “Wondering how on earth you are always right?”

“Eeh?”

“This is the guy who didn’t think twice or even felt the tiniest bit of concern of his own well-being to _castrate_ some dipshit who disrespected his date, Lene. Why would you think he’d shy away from telling you that he did not want you around?” Fee nods, looking so satisfied while I wish to douse myself in gasoline. “And isn’t him arguing with you actually proving that he wishes you to still be there with him?”

“Right, right. He wouldn’t bother trying to explain if it’s the other way around,” Larcei nods as well. “You told us that if he was just that evil then nobody would be saved—not even himself. If he was that blood-thirsty, would he even listen to you when you tried breaking off his fights—especially when he clashed with Seliph? He would have gone behind your back too and...”

“And be a nice guy,” Fee cuts in. “With the trademark symbol!”

“... Oh... God.” I can only whisper that faintly. “N-now... now what?”

“Just call him, duh, silly. Tell him you want to talk!” Fee giggles. “This is the same Black Knight who always takes hits and never retreats from a fight, hnnn~?”

“F-Fee!” I yell at her. “I want to! B-but somehow... somehow I am... uh, shy?” I really feel horrible. Horrible! Aaah, my friends probably think I’m a roasted peanut! “L-like. I don’t even know where to begin. And I dread us to argue even worse through the phone! Besides...”

“Besides as much as I understand you deeply, you cannot project your own angst and tragedy onto our Black Knight,” Larcei responds... patiently. In a motherly manner! “The way he should not project his own aloofness onto you to remedy all his problem. Like his dumbness,” this one she said with a smirk.

“I don’t... understand?”

“Are you panicked simply out of guilt?” Larcei speaks again. The next thing she says truly shoots me in the gut, but—but right now I have to listen, don’t I? The way I—that night—he... before we... “Because you said it was something he needed to hear—and honestly, questions about methods aside, which we would not even contest—we did not even say you were wrong. So... is this because of Ares and your guilt, or... because you dread that he too will leave like the others, Lene?”

... Is that so? Because everyone in my life left at some point—because even my own mother left and—

“I...” I wonder what just happened because no words came out. I’m already feeling so much, way, way too much than I can handle, then why am I—“Then why...”—only able to say this? Why...

“Perhaps it comes with the package of being in love,” Fee smiles faintly. Suddenly both she and Larcei wrap their arms around me. Larcei stroks my head gently the way a mother calms a distressted child, and as much as I’m embarrassed... no, on a typical day she will not do it. On a typical day I wouldn’t even feel so miserable. But today is not a typical day, and I know that they know it too because of the way they treat me. From the way they attentively listened to me without interrupting, without even having to condemn me while not fully condoning what happened either. They are just... there...

“There, there. We aren’t going anywhere,” Larcei whispers softly. “It’s alright. It really is.”

Ares said that too when we were at the grill house. Ares said that too when he brought home an injured Coirpre. All the texts he replied. All the questions he answered. Everything about him—

“I hope you find the courage you need to talk to him again,” Fee squeezes my hand. “In the mean time, take it easy. How are you going to talk when you are still unsure of what you want to say?”

I bite my lips. Strange, the clouds disperse a bit. Is this the answer I’ve been looking for? That all I need is time to sort myself out so I don’t hurt _myself_ furthermore? Is it the shadow from the past that I need to confront—all these things with the absence of a mother which impacted me more than I thought? Or...

Or perhaps that is indeed the package. Because when you like someone that much you would want to make sure they are well and alright. Because you want to help in a way so that they won’t hurt as much?

Again, I bite my lips. I let out another sigh—this is so silly, darn it, this is...

_... Love?_

For some reason, I feel like I can smile now.

* * *

 

This is the tenth time I’ve been taking my phone by my side only to put it back. This is the eleventh time for Coirpre to glance at me because I kept doing that. An evening cartoon is playing on the screen, coloring our otherwise quiet apartment now that Coirpre is doing homework and I’m just here chilling while anticipating that he may need some help with the homework. That reminds me—I will be having Forseti tomorrow, so perhaps I can recheck everything to give my paper a nice last touch.

My phone vibrates and I immediately check it. ... Ah, I forgot it’s not Ares. Idle cozy hours like this is just perfect for some mindless chit-chat. I forgot that we did not do that anymore...

What my friend told me at school comes back to haunt me. R-right, talking to Ares, huh? W-what’s so hard about it? Perhaps I can just call and tell him I’d like to talk tomorrow if I cannot do so on phone. ... Well, I remember his voice can be murderously attractive as well if he whispers, s-so.

... T-this is driving me crazy. He _is_ driving me crazy! But will he even pick up? Technically I told him to forget that we even know each other! Or should I text first? But... but what if he said no?

P-perhaps I am a coward indeed...

Alright, I’ll call then. If he isn’t picking it up, his voice mail sure will. And perhaps I can just dictate my message—things I wanted to tell him. Perhaps better that way, because it’s just an answering machine standing between us. At least that may give some sense of comfort because he isn’t there listening...

I walk up to the pantry. Suddenly I’m dying to make myself some tea. My throat feels so dry. Perhaps if I feel easier and less nervous, I can talk better...

Something at the kitchen catches my attention right when I was about to grab a cup. Oh, that container...

I banish my phone into my shorts’ pocket.

The next morning I wake up with such determination, feeling much, much better and energetic. It’s like I’m filled with renewed strength—on top of that, it’s so nice to be able to regain myself back! This time I won’t back away. Besides, this container needs to be returned...

I look at myself in the mirror, dressing cuter than I typically do to give me the double comfort and emotional support I sorely need. With bursting confidence, everything else should just follow and this way I will not lose focus ever again. Mission Lion commence! After lunch break before Forseti’s class begins, I tried gathering the Lion’s whereabouts. But peeking into that class at the end of the corridor where architecture seniors usually dwell, I didn’t see Ares around! I even look at the ceiling to see if he’s straddling-hanging like a demon. Nope, no, to no avail!

I cannot lurk around the architecture gods’ dwelling because Forseti is next and I need to make things smooth! Is he running away from me... no, _sick_ of me that he stays away from me as much as he can? But he will not be avoiding his class—my friends got a point, I’d know first beforehand if he meant to GTFO-me chivalrously. My eyes glance back at the container I’ve been keeping in a totebag. Well, well, like it or not this still needs returning. After all, it’s not his! It’s his mom’s! And if he really wanted to reject me or call me a dumbass, I’d take it bravely face-front—the way he did so when I did him...

... Good, Forseti frowns when I gasp loudly since I didn’t even hear him calling my name to present. Thankfully, everything goes smoothly! Nobody even asked or even be _trollish_ enough to ask because I’ve got everything prepared beforehand. I put Ares’ drawing example when he explained things to me in one of the slides, though—and resentfully ignore Forseti’s deeper frown because by then he should have known that I used a lot of landscape architecture references. The paper, I keep it within the art history framework as pure as possible, though. By the end of my presentation, Forseti asks me a few questions considering nobody seems to be interested enough to do so—or they cannot find the room. He asks my references and how I gained these source materials... but he has that sympathetic, more understanding look when some pineapple of a classmate quips that I might have been fraternizing with the Black Knight way too much. Ha-ha-ha, as if women lose their brain just for going with a date to a campus event... not. Anyway, what year is this again, 1500?

“That is a reliable source though—either the man or his books,” Forseti merely waves his hand like he is swatting some insect; like he is shooing my classmate off. “Grade-wise he’s pretty good. And the books aside, this adds more flavor to art history—which should serve as a proof that technically, majors are connected to each other like pots belonging in a similar or same box. Trying to be nitpicky about them will only rob them of the knowledge and background which gave birth to these studies.”

... T-the professor is smirking...

“Uh. I uh—thank you, Sir. I guess,” I mumble when he returns my paper. Oh my goat—Lord, a ninety?! Fucking A plus from Professor Forseti?? Ooooh I cannot believe this! Aaah, Ares, we did it!!

... Ares, huh...

“Wait, Miss Bragi,” Professor Forseti quickly takes himself off the lecturer’s desk as students are pouring in and out. “I’d like you to see Mr. Sophara. He’s probably at the office now. You remember the room where my desk is, don’t you?”

I nod. “Mr... Sophara, Sir?”

“Chulainn, Holyn... ah, Chulainn—yes, Chulainn. The muscular man with light blond hair, head advisor of students’ extracurricular activities. ... Or Holy Chu-Chu as our student athletes tend to call him, but let’s not delve into that part,” he sighs. “The art and sports departments aren’t always a match, huh?”

I do not have the heart to tell him that it’s more like Cain and Abel or some sort, considering the sport folks tend to think we are insufferable vapid dreamers and the art folks like to judge the jocks for being nothing but brutal berserkers who feed on protein bars, but.

“You’ll easily find him. He likes wearing slim-fit blue shirts and brown pants too much. And hair gel.”

“Eh. Alright...?”

“And rolling the sleeves too. Well, just tell him I recommended you. He’ll explain later because I need to be somewhere else now—in fact, I am an hour late just for teaching you.”

“Okay?”

“Do not roll your eyes at me, Miss Bragi.”

“Apologies, Sir.”

“... Again?” he looks at me, prompting me to smile sheepishly. Yes, I did it. You only live once. “This is for an event—which will be held at our school,” he sharply adds, perhaps noticing my silent disapproval. “So at least you can breathe because I am not abandoning my family this way.”

“... I’m sorry,” again, with a sheepish smile I nod and begin to turn around.

“Grocery for the month?” he says, casually rolling another wad of cash that he slides into my hands.

“... This is so thick,” I blurt out of reflex. “Sir. I mean...”

“You youngins love some summer holidays, don’t you?” he simply shrugs. “Fee gets the same amount from me as well. Why is there any complaint?”

“... Because she is your daughter while I am not,” I render my reply cautiously but... _sour._

“Because that isn’t just for you alone, no? There’s a younger brother you need to feed,” ignoring my increasingly sullen expression he simply waves his hand again. “Go, Lene. There’s something more important than debating me here. At least go see Chulainn—he’s always busy and moves around a lot.”

I mumble a gratitude with a deep, heavy exhale. Hate it or not, he is right. Mr. Sophara or not, he is also right—I need to find Ares soon. And... hold on. He is the advisor for extracurricular activities, Forseti said. So perhaps... perhaps I can _casually_ ask him a thing or two about... about the upcoming kumite? Kempf threatened Ares and that side of the student athlete group seemed to be so unhappy that they even accused Seliph for being unfair by enrolling Ares in the team. Not only the wording was vicious, but I did not doubt Ares would gladly take himself out of the ring again the moment he heard he wasn’t wanted. He did not bother to make it known to the whole Judgral-U that Diarmuid and Nanna are his cousins—as much as he begrudges Seliph, I wouldn’t doubt he would recuse himself before they get to attack Seliph!

Uh oh, my courage is depleted again. I was so confident and certain, but now that I _actually_ have the chance to talk to the very person in charge of the whole tournament thing, I’m kind of nervous. I’m a dancer, and God knows what kind of relation Sophara maintains with Forseti, given that art and sporty folks tend to hiss at each other like that. I hope Forseti is just busy that he sent me, not because he wanted to escape having to talk to Sophara! My footsteps are staggered by the time I made my way back to the office. Knocking softly on the door, it does not take much effort to find Holy Chu-Chu—ahem, Mr. Sophara, because just like what Forseti described, he is indeed tall, blond, and muscular—and YES, in light blue shirt and brown pants!

“Good afternoon,” wew, why am I gulping now? “Mr. Sophara? I’m Lene Bragi of the performing arts major—a dancer. Mr. Forseti said I should meet you...”

“Ah, so it’s you? Well, yesterday he did say he had a recommendation in mind, but never dropped a name,” he makes a _tsk, tsk_ sound. “I haven’t even seen him today. I bet he’s wearing green as always?”

That really fishes my smile out. “Yes, Sir.”

“And I _am_ the one with a problem. Fucking thespian,” he sighs. “Well, I’m not good at chit-chats, though. Say, would you be a moderator on behalf of Jugdral-U for this upcoming conference we shall be holding on summer break? Date and time, still under discussion. But it would be around the first week of summer break. Or is your schedule already tight by then, Bragi?”

“I haven’t decided on anything yet, Sir, but now that this comes first, it’ll be my honor!” I beam at him.

“Hmmm. That’s the spirit. It’s not about sports, actually—it’s about art.”

“Oh?” my ears probably flap like... like a rabbit’s. Hnnn!

“Yes. There is this conference with book launching. The theme is something about where sports meet arts. And of course, usually the art in question is performing art. I’ve scooted for talents around, and based on the reports, you seem to be the brightest in your department to fulfill that position. Let’s see...” he casually flips a stash of papers while I struggle to keep a cool face for feeling so proud being praised like that. “... Ah, yes. You got nice grade for kinesiology as well. That was the first time someone snatched an A out of Saias,” he grins. “And you did theater too? The Art Night—were you in it? Oh, never mind, you were. The eyes said so. Well?”

“W-who will be the guests?” awh, yiss~!! Weeee!

“Three people—an athlete, a famous performer, a doctor. I will be there too to fill in the academic perspective. Of course I ain’t leaving you kids fend off for yourselves—just the way I won’t each time students have a competition to partake in. Is it a yes then?”

“Yes!! Uh—yes, thank you,” I tone down my voice. He does not seem to mind, though—perhaps being in an active environment, he is used to see people getting so spirited and yelling all the time~?

“Alright. Please be back by next week so you can read the book these writers will be launching then. Fresh off the publisher. It’s not widely available yet, and we can discuss details too.”

“Oooh wow! I can ask for autographs then~! Thank you! Uh, and one more thing...”

My footsteps are so light by the time I’m leaving the office. The totebag with Mrs. Nordion’s container is dangling at the crook of my left arm as I am flying back to my building. The conversation with Holy Chu-Chu really is an eye-opener... for both of us. He even sunk back to his desk, dragging a chair as I, faintly and clouded with doubts, asked him about the... matches. I thought he did not believe me, but turned out the chair was meant for me—he was more than interested to hear more from me!

S-so, what happened is this—I asked him how the participants of the kumite are selected and whether or not a student body can actually petition to have a person’s participation removed. He was so stunned that he looked at me like I just told him the bubonic plague returned, so I simply asked if it was okay for Ares to return to compete—and he, much to my surprise, was appalled. “That would be nice,” he said. “I was wondering what made Nordion to suddenly withdraw this spring. He got the wild card because of that stellar, consistent track record like Chalphy while the younger Claus registered a bit too late that he must undergo the typical qualification rounds.”

“But he was disqualified, Sir?”

Holy Chu-Chu loosened his collar as he demanded to hear more from me. I really wanted to escape out of there considering I accidentally blurted out Ares’ past to him like that, but he reassured me that he needed to know not just purely out of concern towards his athletes—or all the students who take sports seriously in Jugdral-U, because he did not even recall sanctioning such a thing! When I thought it was _my_ turn feeling like wanting to loosen my collar as well because—alright, this _shit_ is crazy, okay?! So to recap, Jugdral-U’s official board of the advising committee was not even _aware_ of the disqualification!

I need to tell Ares this as well. Ares perhaps thinks that life experiences told him that his words have always been useless and his sadness never matters—so I’ll show him that it is not the case! Kempf or whoever the fuck it is cannot threaten him, so this way he can compete with all his heart and I hope I can atone my share of trouble by telling him that he has the support of the school body like that!

“We only suspend when it’s a heavy, intolerable accusation with a proof,” Holy Chu-Chu says. “I believe you know the example. I care for the athletes, but if they boys did wrong, that too, I _do_ care. If Nordion truly assaulted people like these reports... no, _hearsay_ told you, then judging from the victims’... ahem, everything—they would have screamed bloody murder and pressed charges.”

... Oh my God. R-right!! That never crossed my mind even once! Aaah, thank God for a nice adult you can talk to when the need arises! After dealing with Coirpre’s situation, now I understand—of course neither Chagall nor Manfroy would want to sue or even call the police on Ares—it would be troubling themselves since they refused to compensate the Nordions the insurance money Ares’ father should have received in the first place. And judging from the accident, perhaps Chagall should be questioned regarding his treatment of employees and even the working environment itself! Why would Ares’ father try to run into a busy road if his working environment was not that merciless?

“Hmmm. I think I’d need to see Nordion myself,” Holy Chu-Chu clasps his chin. “Please send him to me.”

Of course I did not waste any more second to agree. I left the office feeling lighter than light because... because my shoulders felt lighter as well. Oh, Ares. Dear, dear Ares—you have suffered a lot, but now...

I press the totebag onto my chest as the container inside shakes, rhythmic with my steps. Back to the corridor where our classes were supposedly located last. I really, really want to talk to Ares...

My phone vibrates. I can always read texts later, right? ... Or not. It keeps vibrating. A call?

“Hello?” I feel a bit annoyed because I’m in a hurry.

“Lene? It’s me, Lana...”

She sounds... different?

“Is Ares with you?”

Huh? “No. Actually, I’m looking for him! There’s something important I need to tell...”

I expected Lana to make a love confession joke about this, but she simply mutters an “Oh,” with a really, really, unlikely follow-up conversation. “... I did not see Seliph the whole day either. He just said there were a couple of things he needed to pick up for a... business?”

I stop running. That... that sounds too... accidental to be accidental. “Lana, let’s meet up,” I quickly tell her. “Let’s find them together!” I don’t have the heart to tell her what I thought, but it seems she quickly picks up what I’m thinking because she tells me where she is. My wedges make noisy sounds as I race the corridor—now to the opposite direction, heading to the western staircases instead of the eastern one where Lana will meet me—straight out of the laboratory as she had her last class there, taking and analyzing blood samples of kittens and puppies! If only the situation is not this dire, I’d have gushed!

“Awww. Here comes the slut who thinks she owns the building,” Scipio’s voice coos since I nearly collide against him. From here I can see Lana is running to approach the base of the western staircases, giving me a hasty wave, still dressed in lab coat and protective goggles. Upon seeing me, she hurriedly takes off the goggles and calls my name.

“I’m coming!” I wave back, nearly dropping the totebag I’m holding.

“Oh, that’s what she said,” Scipio chuckles like a Scipio. Alright, enough of this, darn it!

“Yeah, that’s what I said!” blowing into my knuckles, without any regret, hesitation and further ado I hammer my fist into his solar plexus. Scipio gasps, curling into a fetal on the floor, cussing his barber and his ruined good looks! “... I’m sorry, Scipio,” I whisper meekly.

“You better be,” he winces.

“No. I’m sorry you ever even convinced yourself that you were nice in the slightest,” I gently stroke his hair before... yes, returning to what I’m supposed to be doing. “There’s always a place for an unlikely hairstyle, but being insufferable like that makes better birth control than your looks ever can.”

“Oh, Lord God,” Lana sighs dramatically. “You ended him.”

“I’m not approaching my twenties without getting the Respect Women juice I shouldn’t even ask in the first place,” I grin at her, shrugging. “So let’s find the said juice’s primary consumers?”

Lana smiles back and begins to walk with me. We stop to look at each other, utterly exasperated. Where should we find the boys? I really hate assuming for the worst but after what happened during Art Night, it is hard _not_ to actually assume... anything. I send a quick text to Seliph, making it like I was just randomly asking about his shift and if Tirnanog still has frappuccino left because this is rather an unusual hour to get there. My brows twitch even deeper upon reading the text Seliph sent back—he is saying he is not at Tirnanog right now—be it as a staff or just another student hanging out at Tirnanog like the others. And that... that specifically gets me alarmed. Seliph is not at Tirnanog. There is supposed to be a warehouse at Tirnanog. If he is not there, then... where? Picking things up—for a business. A law major isn’t supposed to have anything to do with raw materials and such, no? I really do not want to peep on Seliph like this, but...

We pass by Ishtar and Reinhardt who appear to be confused. Before the first hi I can even spare, Ishtar already talks, folding her arms while Reinhardt follows, clutching a box. “Why is the warehouse locked?” she says. “I just need some wires and screwdriver—we are building a motor and testing it.”

“Perhaps I can run to the closest hardware shop,” Reinhardt ponders.

“Forget it. No time—let’s join other groups instead. We get the raw material, they can get the machine,” Ishtar simply nudges him, and they leave us after sparing a faint smile, nodding. Reinhardt follows her loyally from behind, still clutching the box from prior as Ishtar takes out a bundled paper from her bag.

Warehouse. Warehouse... and if I’m not mistaken, back then when architecture seniors were holding an exhibition at Maera Hall, they also needed the warehouse for some things. If Ishtar and Reinhardt need it too today, then it won’t be weird considering they both study electrical engineering. But why would Seliph be at the warehouse? “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Lana’s voice startles me. I tilt my head to face her. I hate to admit, but... but yes. We hurriedly run to the direction where Ishtar and Reinhardt came from, with Lana nearly trips on her lab coat for trying to race me! It’s so eerily quiet around the warehouse there, and I don’t know if the sports hall are just as quiet, but...

Lana approaches the warehouse as my thoughts are dwindling. She tries to open the doors...

... Ishtar is right. It’s locked! Lana turns around, shaking her head. Her eyes widen as her eyebrows twitch again. She is deathly worried. “Call Seliph?” I whisper at her. “It’s only normal calling your boyfriend. At least we’ll know if he’s there or not.”

Lana nods. And after some time, she shakes her head sadly. “... He isn’t picking it up.”

Now I’m concerned. Like thieves we walk on our tiptoes, approaching the warehouse even closer. If Ares and Seliph are inside, then... then what are they planning to do? How did they even manage to lock this door? We tip-toe around again, trying to find the slightest sign that there are people inside. And if not this warehouse, then... which one? Where? Why is it that I’m feeling restless? Lana seems to share it too!

“... When she said that to me, I was genuinely surprised,” we hear a voice from the inside. I quickly grab Lana and drag her closer, and she too, warily follows without making a sound. “... Perhaps I have become so pathetic for all these months that you kept shielding me from other kids...”

“I swear that is not the case, Ares.”

... T-that was Seliph’s voice!! They truly are inside!

“She said that as well,” outside we can hear Ares’ low tone replying Seliph. “As much as I would want to believe her—I cannot. Not until I see the proof with my own eyes, Chalphy. Well?”

“I’ve got nothing to prove to you.”

“You do. Or I’ll shove those words back into your throat...”

“T-they are going to fight!” Lana gasps. “This door is truly not giving up!”

“Then we’ll need to get in—from another entrance...” I look around, finding the smallest room I can chance to slide in. There has to be something, right? Regardless of how the boys stole the key and successfully shooing everyone else from coming in, this wouldn’t do. The question of dumbness aside, I feel like... I feel like should they _truly_ clash here, then it would be a point of no return!

“... Ares,” Seliph musters a pleading tone.

“I am not your project!” Ares bellows at Seliph. “Wretched soul? Yes. But not a pity party for you to heal and reform. Not this way—not while you get to smile and act innocent as if everything is alright!”

“I think of you as a friend!”

“Then what have you been doing, treating me like a sick man or a stupid child before everyone else?! As if you are bowing your head to them, apologizing for inconveniencing them because of... me?!”

“... Is that what you have been feeling all along?”

“Who cares now, huh?! Or that part where you keep your head low as if you are apologizing—I do not want your apology! If that is not what you are doing, then tell me—tell me why do I keep feeling like a nuisance, so out of place each time you are there? What is this that I’m having in my chest?!”

“... Perhaps because I care...”

“Do not joke with me!”

“... And perhaps because _she_ cares too.”

“Do not mention her like that—how dare you. I’m done hiding. Likewise, I have no interest to take refuge behind Lene and have her receive all the negativity supposedly meant for me! Enough of that—no way I’m making her suffer because of me. No way I’ll let her walk the road I did!”

... So Ares was indeed... shocked instead of... hating me?

“What do we do?” Lana grabs my arm. “... L-Lene?!”

Yes. There is no time to think of what is what. I plant my index finger over my lips, silencing Lana as I drag a wooden crate along with me. She blinks. I point at the half-opened ventilation window over the wall, and that blink evolves into a _stare._ “I’m going to get in through that,” I tell her.

“That’s dangerous.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want Ares and Seliph destroy each other, no?” really, what choice do we have here? So I begin to hop on the crate. Lana makes a disapproval noise but holds the crate for me, anyway. She casts a wary look when I make other two big jumps and .... O-oh, gods. My arms feel so weak because I’m literally hanging by said windowsill, grasping the little room I caught while trying to lift myself up. Hnnnh! Come on, come on! Meanwhile Lana stands on her tiptoes again, holding me by the waist to help me keeping my balance as I struggle to bring myself over that tall window. “I got it,” I tell her, huffing now that I start strengthening my grasp over the windowsill. She still gives me a wary look, so I quickly explain. “I won’t force myself! If I feel like I can’t hold still, I’ll jump down~!”

“You will what?” Lana looks at me in a horror. “I—I think y-you should come down...”

“But we are here! How could I, so easily?”

“Perhaps because you are hanging there with half of a body dangling while trying to get in?” she sighs exasperated. “Come on, Lene. We know that they are there, so let’s...”

Let’s what, though? Calling other people on them? Trying to get a spare key to break in? And to do so we need to tell someone that the boys locked the warehouse. Sure people will ask later, and I just... I don’t have the heart to do that! I feel like if I do so instead, I'll lose Ares forever because receiving yet another unwanted help from some stranger or the people he never explicitly invited in would be the last thing he'd be glad about. So instead of sliding down, I make my way further into the window. Lana calls for my name and I turn around again, quickly placing my index finger on my lips. She shuts up at an instant, and I return my attention back to the scene before me. Oh—no. They are truly fighting indeed! I blink once—then twice. Seliph drops his bag and so does Ares! They spread their legs, making a fortified stance as Ares begins to breathe out while Seliph spreads his dominant arm forward—just like in an action movie! T-this is serious now. I need to do something. I need...

“Sooner or later I’ll need to talk to you, anyway,” I can hear Ares hissing as he fixes his wristwatch. “You kept telling me that you meant otherwise? Fine. Prove it. Speak _my_ language.”

“Ares...”

Again, I blink. Seliph dodges hastily when a sharp punch nearly crosses his left temple. However he does not have much time to recover when a vicious hammer kick tries to get him from the opposite side. T-there is no time or even room to dodge that, but Seliph quickly raises his elbow, blocking the incoming strike at an instant. With such alertness I would not even imagine in the first place Seliph throws back a punch! Ares withdraws his head at a split-second, but Seliph pursues by opening his balled fist and tries to hammer the base of his hand agains Ares’ chin. When Ares conveniently does a backward-cartwheel to evade that as well, Seliph tackles him, locking his arm and throws him onto the floor!

The sound practically startles Lana, who warily looks at me. “What’s going on?”

“T-they are fighting!” I whisper at her. “I need to get in...”

“No, dangerous. Come on—come on, let’s get you down and we’ll make them open this door!” Lana, again, stands on her tiptoes to tug me on my clothes. I ignore her because the situation before me is getting dire. Ares rolls to evade the impact and now wasting no time darting a back-handed fist at Seliph. I can hear Seliph grunting hard when the punch hits him, and it is now his turn to be kissing a bunch of boxes as Ares lands a swift scissor kick to follow his counterattack.

“Oh—gods. They are bleeding,” mumbling, I can see the same dread clouding Lana’s face. I do not want to lose track—my eyes return to the warehouse before me, watching Ares using his sleeve to wipe the blood at the corner of his mouth clean as Seliph spits on the floor to do the same.

“My father—was—dying!” Ares roars brutally at Seliph with various roundhouse kicks accompanying his every word. “My mother couldn’t eat or sleep for a week because of how _messy_ his body looked like!” h-he manages to catch Seliph’s left arm and twists it! Seliph whimpers in pain but it looks like Ares will not stop until he can break Seliph’s arm in two! Oh, dear gods!! “You—how dare you giving me that friendship bullshit without even knowing what it was like for me and my family?! I’ll _braid_ your intestines out of you so you know how painful it is to be regarded like a plague _and_ having to forego food for nights just so your half-dead mother could eat! You hear me now, Chalphy?!”

“Aaah!” my gasping makes Lana jolt because Ares drags Seliph by his collar, savagely slamming his body against the cold, concrete surface that is the warehouse wall to proceed hitting his face. T-this can’t be. I have to get in. Seliph whimpers before exhaling deeply like he is both stabilizing himself and generating the power he needs to escape Ares’ grasp. Somehow he manages to grab Ares by his thumb, and after some struggle, Seliph turns on the table on Ares by elbowing him hard on the shoulder.

Ares grunts. Seliph still does not let go that he twists Ares’ arm by his elbow until Ares has no choice but letting him go. Seliph incapacitates the lion by pounding the latter’s triceps where it hurts. But at the same time Ares manages to slide his leg before Seliph completely locks him. The kick he launches to protect himself is premature since Seliph already tackles him by then, but his instep manages to take Seliph by the nape. Both boys find themselves on the floor, with Ares’ weight crushing cardboard boxes under him as he lays in a fetal position while Seliph breaks a thin board by accident when his thrown body lands downwards. This is bad. How long are they going to go like this? They are seriously fighting. And just looking at them alone like this already makes me feel... _scared._ Not only because of how vicious and merciless those moves are, but... but they truly are throwing punches as if the other one is this mortal enemy another needs to vanquish. Instead of stopping, it’s like the atmosphere only gets to be even more belligerent and... bloodthirsty!

“... You are still sharp,” Seliph pants as he slowly takes himself to stand. “In a way I’m glad.”

“Shut up,” Ares closes his eyes when Seliph does the same. Shrugging his shoulders to relax the tensed if not aching muscles, he sullenly glares at Seliph. “... That’s the Wado-ryu’s inasu, isn’t it.”

“And noru blocking. Yes,” Seliph replies. “... Just how many mawashi-geri variants do you know?”

“I can show you,” Ares smirks, making a warming-up motion with his legs before redoing his stance.

No. Nooo. They shall not do this again. Look at those bruised faces and dirtied clothes! N-no way... “They are starting another round,” I look at Lana. “I’ll come down. We’ll _tear_ that door and stop them!”

“Roger that!” Lana quickly nods. She is about to rush to the door, but... “Um. Lene? Are you... alright?”

N-no, darn it, I am not! I’m flailing. “I uh—I g-got stuck...”

“H-how come?” Lana anxiously looks at me. “Oh, dear God. W-what should I do?”

“The window is smaller than I thought and it’s further than I anticipate before my legs can...” I frantically try to push back. Lana gasps under me; she tries to pull me but I flail because what she tries doing only makes me nearly lose my balance instead!

“You were thinking of sneaking inside through there then land like a paratrooper?!” Lana nearly yells at me. “I’ll knock inside. I’ll scream so Seliph has no choice but stopping this madness all at once.”

“N-no!” I begin to panic. Sweat drops pouring out of my forehead because I lose my grip over the windowsill. “L-Lana! Lana, I’m falling—aaah!!” I don’t know who screamed louder—me or Lana, because—because this feels like a free fall. I haplessly close my eyes as my body begins to rapidly descend downwards. How could I... not calculate that there’s a considerable distance between that ventilation window to the floor. Oh, gods—not only I’m being so stupid but also... a-and... and this one...

“What was that noise...” Seliph glances arond. His eyes widen as if they are about to burst out of the sockets. With a single hasty tap he successfully stops Ares from wanting to kick again—instead, the lion, like him, glances warily, gaping with such expression as if he really, really thought that his eyes are planning tricks on him. Am I... am I being stupid again...? Why do I always, always—

“Seliph!! Seliph!” loud banging from the outside prompts Ares to quickly remove the plank he uses to seal the warehouse. Lana bursts in while I start embracing my fate. What will break first? What will...

“Lene!” Ares yells so loudly as he rushes to get me. Sparing an apologetic smile at him I hug myself, waiting on the cold dirty surface of the floor to ruin my entire backbone. He’s too close to the door. Not enough time. Not... but hey, at least I get to hear him calling my name again. Should be... enough...

“... Ares,” Seliph calmly calls. Truly unexpected to me, Ares nods, swiftly kicking an empty wooden crate at Seliph’s direction, which he uses as a base to jump. Seliph springs like a formidable white tiger, catching me falling while he attempts to do a roll. At the same time in panic I clutch on his collar instead, and he groggily trips on his own steps. “Whoa!” he shouts out of reflex.

“Oh, no—eh?!” opening my eyes, I feel like bumping into... shoulders. Strong shoulders—and... a pair of fiery copper-colored eyes leaning into mine as I land face-flat against his chest. It’s—it’s... Ares...?

“... Back then it was the glass door,” he looks at me. “And now—this.”

I feel so overwhelmed t-that I—and all the emotions I’ve been containing, Lana’s staggered paces and her relieved expression at the same time, the trace of blood drip on Ares’ sleeve and Seliph’s collar, and with that sharp look and low tone, I...

“... I’m... sorry...”

He blinks. But not for too long because he embraces me, taking me over from Seliph’s unstable arms since he also tumbles and sways around. Meanwhile Lana rushes in—her hair is messy from running as she tackles me into a hug. “Oh, God. I was so scared that you...” her trembling lips stop moving now that she realizes Ares practically holds me. “You got her in time! Thank you! Thank you so much...”

Ares pauses. Again, he exhales heavily, and... “... I did not,” he breathes. “That was Chalphy.”

There’s silence over us. Seliph scratches the back of his head, sheepishly shaking his head. “I got panicked too that I tripped,” he smiles kindly. “Ares still saved the situation...”

“Enough,” Ares cuts in. “... No. It is you. You saved Lene—again.”

“Ares...” I feel like sobbing now.

“I cannot imagine that this keeps happening,” he murmurs. “Either a rabbit who never ceases to surprise me or the asshole who also never ceases to surprise me. Perhaps I am just...” he looks at me. And then at Seliph. After checking if I injured myself and looking satisfied because I did not, he gently puts me down, seating me on the crate Seliph previously used as a base to take a flight saving me. He sighs. And I clutch on my dress tighter than ever, ready to hear all his qualms and chewing remarks.

“P-please don’t get angry,” Lana sighs too, approaching Ares with caution. “Lene was there out of concern since she suspected both of you would be fighting...”

“A-and to return your mother’s food container,” for the first time after clutching it for so long, I spread my arms to show Ares the totebag I’ve kept holding even as I fell down. “I couldn’t find you today, so... I—I know I should have called! B-but then again—“ oh, no, he holds up his hand. There goes my voice—dies, vanquished by one simple gesture. This is it then. H-how ridiculous. What if I’m the one needing pep-talk instead? What if I’ve been pressuring him and I’m only deluding myself thinking I actually... try to do something good? What if... w-what if the one who constantly troubles another is... me?

“For this, huh...” his voice sounds so distant. Perhaps he just does not want to chew a woman. Perhaps he does not want to chew _me._ Perhaps because Seliph and Lana are here. Or perhaps...

He takes the container. His demeanor shifts upon feeling that it weighs more than what an empty container typically weighs. Opening it at an instant like he does not want to waste more time to confirm his suspicion, he looks down, and... I can see it. The returning innocent, cat-like curious expression he harbors into the container; eyes fixating on it because... “... Fried rice and the grilled sausages I like?”

I nod. And bury my face down with my hands. He mutters a thing or two in disbelief—about the sausage cuts and the sauce I used to decorate the food. I’m so, so exhausted—I’ve embarrassed myself today and I nearly got injured badly for trying to sneak into a warehouse from a considerably high place. If he wants to comment on that too, t-then... then just throw the food away because I don’t have the energy to even argue about that too now that it has come to this. I need to pick myself up and—and leave. And to never stay near him again. And to forget that we know each other—like what I shot him with that night. A-and then...

I mumble a surprised voice, feeling someone touching my chin to tilt my face. It has to be him. I do not want him to see me like this—embarrassing, so, so embarrassing...

“Lene?”

N-no. Don’t...

“... I am not angry.”

“You aren’t?” slowly I peek at him.

“Not even that night,” he scratches his head. “I was utterly frustrated—with myself. That I might have thought of myself too highly that I cannot even...” he glances at Seliph. “Like today for example. But everything started making sense the morning after—you were right, Lene. You always are. And for that, I am utterly ashamed—in the end you helped me while I couldn’t even be there when needed. I...”

“It’s only common. Don’t mention it,” Seliph touches him. “I might have undermined how you truly feel all along without even meaning to do so. My apologies. My sincere, sincere apologies...”

“T-the food must be so messy inside for turning upside-down when I fell,” sniffing, I wipe my nose with my sleeve. T-this is embarrassing. Truly... “I wanted to talk to you again, and then I remembered I owe you the Art Night sausages. And...”

“... Ssh,” he whispers tenderly. “Stop apologizing to me. I’ll eat it. I’ll eat everything inside.”

“... Really?” I beam at him. And curse my half-crying self because I snot while doing so. Hnnn!

“Yes. This matters more than small inconveniences like that,” Ares lifts a finger to wipe my teary eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches, giving me that typical small smile I thought I have lost. “... And I’d rather hear you telling me what I should know instead of not hearing anything at all from you—no matter how harsh such honesty is. You are right—I’m fucking stupid and it nearly cost us your life.”

“Hnnn.”

“... Don’t hum. Curse me again.”

“What a surprising request,” I blurt out of reflex—before yanking his mullet hard and bury my face like a camel again. Sigh. At least if my brain can get goofy again, t-this means... this means everything is going back to normal, isn’t it? However Ares merely chuckles—softly though, as he pats my head. Suddenly he stands up, approaching Seliph who sits at the corner while being tended by Lana. Feeling him moving away from me, I snap out of my awkward shyness—he... cannot mean to continue fighting, can he?

“Chalphy,” he calls onto Seliph. His expression is murky and his voice follows suit...

“Yes?” Seliph also stands up. The calmness is still there, but he also appears a bit wary, as if he’s not going to naively tell Ares to just forget everything and give some cartoony hug either. After all, if anything what he said to Ares actually indicates that he began to understand why Ares is so restless... oh, my—can it be that he is signaling of having a full-blown fight now that he understood Ares’ position?

“What was it that you wanted to say earlier?” Ares asks. It’s like he’s bracing for a tidal wave...

Seliph takes a breath as well. “... I never wanted to fight you because—because while I might miss how devastating the tragedy is for you and your family, I can actually... relate. Cliche, but that is the truth.”

“What... do you mean?”

“... My father,” Seliph looks down. “My father also got hospitalized. Yes—the day his car hit your dad’s.”

“What...?”

“Well, I only know studying and studying because...” Seliph melancholically averts Ares’ eyes on his. “Aunt Edain is my father’s childhood friend—she and her sister get along well with us. As she went on to become a specialist, Tirnanog was too much for her to handle, so her sister managed it in her name. After knowing my situation, Aunt Brigid took me in and offered me a place to work there. I wanted to scrape whatever money I could earn to smooth things up for my mother...”

“No way...”

“I bet your father’s condition was worse,” Seliph whispers. “Because my father never shut up about it. Apparently, even the witnesses and paramedics knew—as they got him on the stretcher, he kept mumbling for your father’s name—begging them to tend to him first. He kept saying how horrible the car looked like, and in between of treatment and sleep-inducing medicines, he kept asking about your dad—or whispering an apology again and again because he should have done more. My mom told me that he rammed his car against your dad’s because he saw a big, loaded cargo truck coming from the other direction. It was a foggy, ungodly hour—he told my mom that he sensed your father was dead tired because of the way he drove—or stressed to the bones. Hearsay said the boss was an asshole?”

“Yes. I mean. But,” Ares can only grumble incoherent words as he is at loss of words like that.

“... He had to do it, he said,” Seliph continues. “Otherwise it would be too late for Uncle Eldigan to make a turn—that loaded truck would have squeezed the car. The road was slippery and the weather was cold—speeding or making a sharp turn would have thrown you out of the lane. And considering where it took place, my dad was dreading that your dad’s car would slam hard against the portal near the bridge. And then...”

“... Then the car would fall off the cliff, with him still in it,” Ares mutters in disbelief. “Dear—God.”

“Yes,” Seliph murmurs, approaching Ares. “My mom already said this a couple of times—my dad was reckless. He acted on the first thing he could think of, trying to save your dad. Didn’t expect that the collision would be so harsh that it broke your dad’s neck like that... all he wanted to do was pushing your dad’s car out of the way so the dreadful impact with the truck would not happen. The cars were so close, facing each other by the opposite side of the road. Perhaps... perhaps my dad only thought he’d need a stronger push, but he suspected your dad was thinking of saving _my_ dad too that way, and...”

We gasp. And Ares keeps looking at him...

“... Forgive me,” Seliph grabs Ares’ hands. “I did not know you were hurting so much. My dad didn’t say more after that, so back then we thought he was shocked—you know, trauma out of injury and all that...”

“My father didn’t say anything about this either,” Ares balls his fists again. “Why?!”

I shake my head. Slowly standing up to follow the boys, I pry his hands open. He lets out a surprised sound, glancing at me... “Perhaps because he does not want you to begrudge Seliph’s father?”

He looks at me.

“Perhaps exactly because he is so kind that it’s not just that—he does not want to drag his family to relish that horrible day again, especially after seeing how much the accident also traumatized your mom—and how much it hurt you,” I smile at him. “If he just conveniently told you not to hate on Seliph or his father, chances are you’d probably think he was bluffing. You told me you felt like as if you were experiencing all the anger someone else should but could not... what if... what if he did what he did hoping you would befriend Seliph? The way he treasures Seliph’s dad? Thinking if you get to meet Seliph at school, slowly you will see that there’s no point of hating him like that.”

“He never protested when I—“ Ares’ voice is trembling and croaking. How long has it passed since he chewed away his tears and swallowed all his sadness like this? How long...

I touch his back. Rubbing it up and down hoping to ease his pain; a gesture which successfully silences him to look at me again. It is clear than ever—the pleading look—and even more so, a _defeated_ one. Like one who was so keen on going to war only to find the cause gone that everything becomes... empty. “Your dad is a chivalrous man, you said,” I whisper to him. “Perhaps he’s already ridden with guilt knowing you put your life and body working odd jobs at odd hours to fend for your mother like that. And perhaps he thought—he couldn’t... no, _shouldn’t_ ask for more, since what happened caused him to be absent and took so much from you and your mom.”

He pauses. And Seliph approaches closer...

“... Let’s check on you as well?” he smiles. “I’m not the only one bleeding here, you know.”

“I—“ we can only look when he grabs Seliph so suddenly. His taller posture and wider shoulders suddenly envelop Seliph’s body in a tight hug. “You should have hit me so hard until I've got no choice but listening to you speaking, asshole,” he whispers. “Fuck this. Fuck this world—I’m sorry... Seliph.”

“Oh...” Lana whispers so faintly like I do. Emotions—only pure emotions overwhelm us so much right now. D-did that just truly happen? For Ares to embrace Seliph and speak of apology and forgiveness? Oh—my. Oh, dear God. I—t-they do it. They eventually do it. The months-long animosity ends here. Okay, perhaps they won’t straightly plunge into the BFF-mood, but this is enough. T-this is...

There’s rummaging sound from the outside, interrupting the newly-found peace and revisited friendship. We all turn around, finding Leif and Altena rushing inside, followed by Ishtar and Julius. Wow, what an unlikely guests! Like me, Leif may suspect that Ares and Seliph are fighting, but... Ishtar and Julius? Ishtar perhaps needed the warehouse—but Julius... “Oh, there you are, a league of peasants,” Julius says, but somehow he does not look the same. If anything, he appears... awkward? “I was just tailing Ishtar...”

“And I uh,” Altena glances at Julius. “... Your classmate?”

“And I’m Seliph’s cousin,” Leif rubs his nose. “I mean...”

“He means there’s a Finding Ares wave out there,” Ishtar coolly picks up what Leif left. “With everyone searching you around, the only place that is left is this locked warehouse. Too coincidental, huh?”

“My Ishtar is smart,” Julius smirks. “But really—the heck did you even do? Sophara is out to look for you.”

“Holy Chu-Chu?” Ares frowns. “But why?”

“... Perhaps because he finally understands that you don’t belong in the ring?” another voice interrupts us. All of us can only stare when around thirty student athletes and jocks walk into the warehouse like they are about to storm the place! Lana cannot hide her surprised look. I recognize a few faces among this crowd as the jocks who lost to Ares back then—from the sports hall drama to even some random challenges during which he is known as the Black Knight. And of course—the same guy standing in the middle looking so smug that is Kempf. Never thought I’d see Ishtar looking at another person in disgust!

“What do you want?” Leif asks warily.

“Another qualification round,” Kempf responds, glancing at twenty-nine tough-looking guys standing behind him. “I believe you crusaders are tweaking the system to benefit you.”

“Or perhaps you, to benefit you?” Leif sniffs. “There’s no time for that, dude, we’re so close.”

“Then he must withdraw,” Kempf points at Ares. “Simple.”

“And you think you will be there when he doesn’t?” Leif keeps pressing. That pricks into Kempf like a stab, but compared to what happened at the Art Night, he manages this one better.

“I’m not saying it would be me,” he shrugs. “But even another Nordion is better than this one.”

“Diarmuid is still a brown belt,” Ares finally responds with a cold tone.

“He is not the only other Nordion that is available,” Kempf chuckles cynically.

“Nanna is off limit!” Ares snaps before Leif can even cuss. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What is it with you getting so hot-headed when a girl is brought up? Tch. It's a joke, Black Knight. Can't you recognize one?”

“Besides your existence? No,” Ares glares at him. “So just tell me what your problem is.”

“For you to stop treating this school like a turf, duh. Really—I’m sick of your face around here. And gladly these great folks behind me think the same as well. Who do you think you are again, Nordion? You keep posing and scaring the shit out of people by Black Knight-ing here and there, undermining actual student athletes under their fraternity houses with your actions. Shouldn’t you have enough?”

“Perhaps if your ilk would stop dominating everything—from facilities to funding to the point of turning the campus into this sophisticated exclusive club open to only those you deem illegible, this will not happen,” Ares simply responds. “Just because other kids aren’t in the same club with your obnoxious rich bunch doesn’t mean they are not entitled to the same opportunity Jugdral-U can offer.”

“Why would we as the student body board want some disgraceful thug like you to represent us?” Kempf grimaces as if he’s facing a pile of stinky garbage. “There’s a functioning fraternity and student council here, Nordion, in which you are a member of neither. Be a good dog and stop undermining us. What is it that actually prevents you from telling us what actually happened so we can consider you?”

This guy! This obnoxious jealous asshole who is just too obnoxious to even admit that he is jealous and wanting a slot he isn’t even deserving of in the first place! Now he wants a full disclosure of Ares’ family background and story so they can have something to laugh about? Considering Ares? It’s just a league of rich kids feeling superior because they are of different breed! My chit-chat with Holy Chu-Chu proved that basically inter-student’s open tournament is as open as it is for every member of competing schools—if they pass the qualifications—usually by earning their way to the top with little matches against other contestants, then they will be there even if the tournament adapts teamed scoring system. Whoever will be in the contingent will still get the briefing and training to enhance their cohesiveness.

“You are not entitled to my personal story,” Ares shrugs casually. “Test me again—I don’t care.”

“You can’t just say that easily, you know?!”

Alright, that is enough! “Why not?” even Leif holds his breath when I emerge from behind Ares, meeting Kempf face to face. End of the line—he is not going to proceed further, moreover hurting Ares further! “You first complained that the crusaders abuse their privilege by cheating just because of being ace fighters. You want to forcefully kick Ares out of the team despite his lawful wildcard and legit track record. Now that he asked to be tested again, why backing off—if you are not actually scared?”

“What?”

“Am I not right, though? If you want to break the ace team by taking one of the pillars which formed it in the first place, sounds like you don’t actually want our school to win anything. I wonder, perhaps Arthur and the Jugdral-U’s student bulletin editors should question you instead, Kempf,” I keep my tone normal while he looks like he is about to boil himself to death. “You are saying Ares is a disgrace, Seliph abuses his captain position, and Leif cheats? And you are doing this... for what? This is too far for personal gain. Sounds like Holy Chu-Chu should blacklist you instead!”

“You know Holy Chu-Chu?” Ares looks at me... adoringly.

“Talked to him,” I huff. “T-this isn’t the time to debate his nickname, right?!”

“Then we will not be supporting the tournament,” Kempf glares back. “It’s only common for students to show it when they dislike a figure within campus. No funding, no support, no spectators. If you keep going on, it will be individually instead of under Jugdral-U’s banner, and we can send a legit team for that as well. Do you understand now? Defeated, your names are there. Winning, no gain. Grow some brain and make a sensible decision, you three—acquiesce.”

“I have no idea what you are even talking about,” Ishtar scoffs. “But you’ve been doing that for a while and halting new talents to blossom around here. Sorority sisters are not your play things, Kempf—that aside, you cannot ruin this event because everyone else pours their heart and energy into it. If you do want to boycott the tournament, well, I can sponsor them or get the donors to do their part of the job.”

Oh—God. D-did Ishtar just—like the way she casually offered to buy me groceries?

“Well, that’s my Ishtar. Mingling with the peasants,” Julius smirks. “But really, what kind of a guy am I to let my woman shoulder everything like that? Feh. If Ishtar’s money isn’t enough, take mine!”

“... You are kidding,” Seliph looks at him.

“Of course not. I still don’t like you, anyway,” he waves his hand. “But this guy got a point—ain’t letting you have all the fun since life seems to favor you so much. And this so much is just too much.”

“Oh, Julie. Just say you want to give our Selly a little help for housing your sister from the airport,” Leif grins. “Awh, you are so cute that it’s adorable. I guess you do have a heart after all...”

“D-don’t talk like that to me, you peasant!” Julius huffs, blushing and flustering like a crab. “Come on, babe. Let’s just get out of here. I thought Kempf had a brain for being an elite—apparently not.”

Ishtar chuckles a little bit, squeezing Julius’ hand. Before she leaves, however, I quickly grasp onto her, startling her a little bit. “Y-you are so generous, but... b-but why, Ishtar? This isn’t just groceries...”

“Well,” Ishtar gives me that comfortable shrugging—the way socialite does when they are dropping a bunch of money like it’s just a bundle of old papers. “I’ve everything that it feels like I have nothing. When you have too much, you need to share so it won’t overflow and becoming a waste.”

T-truly a rich girl thing to say. Maybe I shouldn’t ask, hnnn!

“... There’s genuine connection here—people fighting for our school, the friendship and everything,” Ishtar continues, averting her eyes from me. “There is love. I do not have that in my house.”

I can’t believe my ears, but she, with her head held high with a manner rivaling an actual princess in the movies, bades us a goodbye like she did not just dropping a shocking honesty like that. Ishtar leaves with Julius, hand in hand without looking back, and they are such a power couple that not even the most obnoxious elite like Kempf has the gall to whine and rant when they do as they please. “I guess it’s settled then!” I exclaim cheerfully. “Let’s get out of here and enjoy some sun or something.”

“No,” Kempf glares at me. “Ishtar might step on me like that, but not you. Not every single one of you.”

Altena yawns. “And these thirty people are your henchmen? I can use the exercise...” she grins.

“Thirty. With my sister, there will be four of us, huh,” Leif also smirks. “Darn it, I thought I can nap.”

“Is this the hill you choose to die on?” Seliph mutters. “Unbelievable. Leave Lana out of this.”

“Oh, so it’s come to this?” Ares glares... sharply. “Good! Saves my time rather than having to go through qualification rounds if all of them would just fight here. Fair warning—be a shithead to Lene, die.”

“Ares,” out of reflex I yank his mullet. He smirks, but I huff. Only that this time I’m not angry... “I’ll shoulder the burden as well. Five with me!”

“No,” Ares looks down. Ah, is he pouting~?

“Yes. Watch me~!” I pat his cheek. It feels so fun, being able to do that again as always... Ares’ eyes closely follow me as I leave him to approach the opponent’s camp. He sends a wary look, as if telling me that he’s going to jump on any given moment if things turn sour. “Kempf and mini-Kempfs, gentlemen,” my voice is calm as I start. They look confused—including Kempf. Perhaps he expects me to grill him again, but no. Two can play this game. “Mr. Sophara is interested to hear about this case of disgrace further,” I tell him, shooting him straight at the face. His demeanor quickly falls that he averts his previously smug look from me. “And that is why he also requested to speak with Ares. I believe this serves your best interest since you can posit your objection to him~? Because he informed me that the campus advisorial board never had a problem with Ares competing the tournament to begin with. To my knowledge, his withdrawal was spontaneous out of respect to you—student council—either you forced him to do so last season, Ares’ participation is as lawful as it can be, and you cannot contest the decision purely out of personal grudge like that. You are more than welcome to see Mr. Sophara at the office!”

“This is a lie. What is it to you, anyway, you s—“

“You address her respectfully or I dislocate that jaw,” Ares glares at him.

“—Sweetheart.” Ares cocks an eyebrow, but Kempf flusters. “What is the stake for you here?”

“Nothing?” I simply shrug. “I mean, I gain nothing by saying these to you. I’m not even a contestant.”

“And Holy Chu-Chu knows you because—“

“Hmmm. Perhaps because you are not the only Jugdral-U student here. Shocking, I know,” I grin at him. “Let alone the only student with achievement. Holy Chu-Chu wants me to moderate a talkshow panel with a book launching from a group of collective authors, bridging the sports and dancing world.”

“... That can’t be,” Kempf mutters. “That cannot be—“

“I thought so as well~! So let’s go see him to confirm that? You have an important matter to complain about, yes~? Now now, isn’t he the right person to go to? Aren’t you representing the fraternities?”

“I,” Kempf gulps, pale-white now. “I think I need to uh—think. Y-you presented an interesting argument.”

“Take your time!” I wave at him as he drags his feet away, followed by shocked and embarrassed jocks, muttering at him to demand an explanation. Perhaps he didn’t tell the whole story, nor were they prepared for this. They really thought they’d only need to bully Ares again, pressuring him to redo the last seasonal match by reminding himself how sorely unwanted he is around Jugdral-U. Not this time. We’ve accepted too many things and it’s become too much—time for something other!

“... Wow,” Ares blurts out innocently. “Rabbit, you....”

Not done yet, I shush Ares by ticking his nose. “Kempf?” I call sweetly. When he tilts his head at me, I shoot him with the most murderous look I can muster. “Should you trouble Ares again, I’ll end you.”

Kempf grimaces and holds his peace, withdrawing himself to whatever it is the abyss he spawned from—this time with his tail between his legs. I can hear the jocks arguing even hotter and fiercer, talking a thing or two about him throwing a figurative mud at their faces, turning them into a bunch of fools and as Altena said clearly prior—henchmen. And they warned him because they never signed a contract agreeing to be anyone’s henchmen.

“I-it’s over now,” exhausted but relieved I let out a long sigh, taking my steps back to my friends, who are all intense from being ready to fight for the worst since technically thirty muscular student athletes manage to ambush and corner us at a packed warehouse. “O-oh, dear gods. Only now I realize that was pretty unnerving! B-but—yes, now you guys can compete in peace! And yes, Sophara did look for you!”

Nobody says a word until Leif slowly claps his hands. Lana squeals as she tackles me into a bear hug! “Just like with Forseti and Fee! You are so fearless!! Aaah, our Lene of the Stages!” her commentary prompts the others to crowd me as well. Seliph walks closer and Altena yells a spirited _YEEEAAHH_ that she joins Lana hugging me—o-only since this is Altena with the muscle and height with a gasp I remind her not to crush my waist with her arms since she is just _that_ enthusiastic. Seliph grins like no other as he makes a courtly bow, looking so incredibly relieved that Lana is safe and no stupid fight happened.

It really feels great having to be able to laugh after everything resolves peacefully like this. More importantly, it feels great to actually help! And my friends are with me. What a good day from my typically shitty one since usually the middle of the week is when I get to be the most unlucky in and outside the school! More importantly... ah, yes, Seliph smiles like half of the world’s problem has been eliminated. But Ares... ah, Ares—are my eyes deceiving me because his smile is so gentle and tender... with the afternoon sun rays falling on his hair from that ventilation window, he looks so... angelic...

“I’ll do the best at the ring with pride,” he says softly. “Thank you...”

“Y-you are welcome.”

Suddenly he takes my swaying hair strands to bring them to... his lips. H-he is kissing it. Like the way a knight kisses his liege’s hand, but... but it’s my hair that he takes instead of my hand. “It will be a great honor to have you as my supporting dancer.”

“... Me?” why is my voice... wanting to disappear again? And why is my chest throbbing so hard like this? I-is that because he is a demon, judging from his speech like that?

“Yes. There is something I need to tell you,” he smiles, releasing my hair from his grip. “I would want to do this sooner, but with the recent events, I—thought I’d need to actualize myself first before daring to even approach you with—with this thing I have in mind.”

“Oh, wow. I-it sounds so... big?”

“A pretty big deal for me, yes,” he chuckles lightly. “I’m not using the tournament as an incentive, but I suppose if I can emerge out of it as a better person, then I can conquer my own demons without dragging you deeper only to be consumed by it.”

... W-what is this... serious _gentlemanly_ talk? And—hnnn? “Ares, your hand?!” I gasp a little, noticing wound-dressing plasters encircling his fingers here and there. “Oh, gosh. What happened? Training?”

Ares looks down. His demeanor shifts. He grins, scratching the back of his head, voluntarily ruffling his own mane like he is ready to do that to oblivion. “Yes, but... eh...” just then he reaches for the backpack he dropped when he was about to fight Seliph. Taking something inside he hands me a brown paper bag. Taking it from him, I peek inside—finding something neatly wrapped there. Yellow and...

“... Baked... bread?” I take out the food. “You make this?” I can’t believe it! So all those badass-looking plasters happened because... he cooked? And—oh, what is this? Oh, pinned cherry tomatoes? But hold on—the way they are lined—“Ares, this is...”

“It seems the tomatoes are rebelling while they’re in my bag,” he mutters shyly. “I arranged them like...” I watch in disbelief as his fingers dance on the food... only to look back at him. R-really? He tried to spell _I’M SORRY_ with this food? Ares—“... I did want to talk to you again,” he explains with a low voice—clearly shyer than shy now. “But after that night I was worried if I’d be pressuring you instead that you'd hate my guts. I kept thinking of everything you said—and upon reaching a conclusion, I figured I’d need to make it clear and certain but I don’t know how to start. I wanted you to have this, but after my failed omurice, I thought I'd do something simple. Eh, not wanting to insult you since you cook way better than me. Or as Diarmuid said, I'd need to make human food. Then I suppose I need to talk to Seliph, and...”

And he cannot continue it. Because... b-because I pull him in. I draw him closer, enveloping him in a hug. Or rather, it’s more like I’m diving straight into his chest instead. Giggling a little bit my arms wrap around his neck, and after a moment of shocked awkwardness, he hugs back—I feel it; his free hand encircling my waist since his other hand still holds the backpack. My laughter does sound so relieved, and I have to faintly release a snort because... because otherwise he’ll know I’m tearing up. “Silly...” I pinch his nose. “Y-you are so silly. B-but in the end somehow you came back to me, so I forgive you.”

“I know,” he responds. “I know. And thank you—again. You've been so generous and I'm not wasting my luck.”

... His lips are so close to my ears.

* * *

 

I am glad that everything is resolved peacefully! Ah, admittedly it does feel so different now that Ares reconciles with Seliph! He seems to understand that there are many things needing to catch up, and the unaware ones like Larcei or Fee have to deal with a sweet surprise when they get to the class in the morning. Ares meets Seliph at our usual corridor, but this time Seliph does not emerge from the men’s bathroom as always, and Ares casually waves him with a _friendly_ good morning to start the day. Apparently that scares people even more compared to when Ares shoots murderous stares at Seliph because—yeah, _what in the fuck_ apparently, but Ares, much too used to people’s silent judgment of him, simply shrugs and mingles with whomever he wants. The revisited friendship is stronger than ever now that there is understanding and forgiveness between them!

And not just that, Ares is... happy. He is definitely happier—and even better, he smiles more and truly does not look like he is just as hurt and pained that he is ready to fight the entire world. He still waves me at the corridor during the mornings we run into each other this week, but this time, it’s not strange to see Seliph walking with him—sometimes with Leif between them too. Sometimes people will whisper about the crusaders passing through, but to me and the girls, it’s just three endearing nerds walking together eating breakfast breads they bought near the northern parking lot or even... yes, Tirnanog!

“Admittedly, I like the cappuccino,” one time Ares confesses frequenting Tirnanog. And just like what I’ve been doing these past few days, I simply smile at him, feeling so, so happy and warm inside because he is so at ease like that. I wish I did not blush when Altena said Ares smiled because I started it, though...

But now that the crusaders are back, questions regarding the upcoming tournament are growing even more! As the days pass, I see less and less of the boys at school because they are starting to prepare serious, intensive training for the tournament while I begin to read the book from the talkshow Holy Chu-Chu wanted me to moderate. This also changes my online habit—with finals approaching, this book I need to read, and even my own dancing gigs, my online presence gets to be lesser and lesser although there’s a hike regarding the number of people who subscribe to me! I got to review more products and now it includes fashion. The good part is sometimes I get free products sent to me, and my closet starts growing its own section of cute dresses~!

I decide not to bother Ares too much. We still text, of course~! It’s like he is making efforts to contact me in between his also-tightly packed schedule. Ares still has to juggle his college life as a senior student, polishing his CV to hunt for internships during this summer break, doing his shifts at the repair shop, and delivering for Lionheart Kitchen. What feels great is that one time when he, with the rare kind of look I haven’t seen in a long time, tells me that Leif’s father—the paralegal Mr. Quan Claus who also offered probono service in case Raydrik wanted to sue him for getting Coirpre out of Conote Restaurant—contacted Mr. Nordion asking if he wanted to sue Chagall and Manfroy to the bones. Seliph’s father was more than willing to be there to support him, and Leif’s father said he would be glad to see the court flaying both men’s wealth to the bones so they could compensate Mr. Nordion for what he deserved. And wew, apparently Mr. Nordion didn’t even get the money he was supposed to be receiving from the Augusty company when he left! God, basically they just discarded him like that after denying his medical insurance too. People _really_ have to give Ares more credit for not going berserk that winter night!

 “I don’t—know what to say,” Ares tells me as we grab for bubble tea at the southern parking lot. “I mean. Seliph and Leif are helping me. Alright, it’s their dads to my dad, but...”

“It’s alright. A simple thank you will be enough, but then again I’m sure they know you appreciate it,” I squeeze his hand softly. “I’ll pay our drinks, so that completes the Love Your Ares day for today~!”

“Like hell,” he chuckles, quickly slamming a banknote on the counter before I get to even reach my purse. “I already got that yesterday when Uncle Quan came. Now it’s Care Your Lene day.”

“Next time I’ll just do so without announcing so you cannot counter,” I pout a little bit. T-this feels rather immature, but I don’t care—I don’t want him to notice my smile. Hnnn.

“Challenge accepted,” he smirks. “After all, the karate way says there is no first strike in karate.”

“There isn’t?” I quirk an eyebrow. “But that’s a self-defense art!”

“Exactly why. The principal is that the practitioner should never throw the first punch,” he nods. “So...”

“So you glare instead?” I poke his cheek.

“... Maybe,” he grins, sheepishly scratching the back of his head.

Our college life proceeds as always, with the crusaders’ absence happening more and more often—usually to meet up with Holy Chu-Chu, discussing technicalities, reviewing the matches they did prior to this season, especially when Ares was absent. He, Leif, and Seliph bundle together at the computer lab to watch various video clips—first from the past three-four seasons’ finals to actual international-level matches such as JKA’s kata-testing or even karate finals in Olympics. Every day there is always something they do regarding karate, and Ares is more than generous bringing his DVDs and books so Seliph and Leif can see them as well. Likewise, Leif offers Seliph and Ares a joint training with his old acquaintances and masters—a modest but exclusive compound located at the peaceful but isolated village called Fiana, around an hour away from the beach. That offer is not wasted because Ares quickly brings up the plan with Holy Chu-Chu, requesting a formal seal of approval from Jugdral-U including permitting them to leave classes if the needs arise. Frat boys still try to sneer at him, but apparently Julius is firm enough about sponsoring the match, the way Ishtar nearly not batting an eye as she signs a cheque to support the venue and other tidbits like incentives for the committee. When Seliph is about to protest, Julius merely scoffs, leaving him with Ishtar acting as if he does not even exist.

“Thank you so much!” Seliph shouts at the corridor, waving at the power couple regardless.

“... You are noisy,” Julius grimaces. “... I guess that proves you are still my family, after all.”

Ishtar giggles, however.

Besides the teamed preparation, the boys have been training by themselves as well. Leif drills his takedowns with none other than ultra cool sister that is Altena. Ares posts more frequently on Instagram to share short clips with Leif and Seliph regarding his development in his own training!

And because of that, I get to see some... ahem, if not shirtless Ares, then a nearly-shirtless Ares. His father, with the discipline and firmness of a former army commander, takes their backyard with him together every morning, subjecting him to typical routines Shotokan students normally do. Sometimes it’s just physical training, commonly drilling stances to build up power and strengthening every part of the body from head to toe. Other times, they do weapon mastery to increase speed and dexterity. It’s actually harsh, but... but I need to see them all. If I’m going to be a supporting dancer, then the very least I can do is truly watch everything with open eyes, just like Mrs. Nordion did—taking every situation bravely, even during those critical nights when her husband was not with her to raise little Ares. During the days when her body was about to give up yet she could not since there is a lion cub needing her care. Um—and I’m kind of... shy to say this, b-but... turns out Mrs. Nordion is eager to invite me over for dinner! When she knows I’m ordering food because I need to leave Coirpre alone to dance, she suggests for Coirpre and I to eat at her house instead! Not only that—she says Coirpre can stay doing homework while I dance. When I am done later on a late night, Ares can pick me up and drive us home with Coirpre!

When I was about to object since... well, that was very kind of her!—it was Ares’ father who objected back. “There is no need for a medal and these decorations if I can’t keep my men out of danger.”

“Um—but Sir,” I chuckle along, “Coirpre and I aren’t your soldiers.”

“Then my son has no need of a black belt and trophy if he cannot keep a lady safe,” he says.

“Eeeh?”

“... What do you say, Miss?”

Shy, too shy to even muste a coherent reply, I pull Ares’ mullet instead! That aside, apparently, Diarmuid will come with Nanna that day—Diarmuid wants to train with Ares and Mr. Nordion while Nanna is there on behalf of Master Cakes because Mrs. Nordion is craving some sweets. “That will keep the boys happy too,” she chuckles when Nanna arrives with the food while Diarmuid quickly changes into training gear. “It’s going to be a rough two weeks ahead.”

“Is it always like this each time Ares competes?” I ask her, helping with the plates and everything.

“Ah. The business is familiar,” she smiles. “But this time, somehow the fire is brighter...”

“Huh?” I want to keep asking her, but getting distracted by the sound of Diarmuid grumbling. Apparently it is because Coirpre asks his help in mathematics!

“I am the dumb one. Ask my sister!” he scoffs playfully. “Off to train. Bye now, little guy.”

“My sister is right—the Nordions are dumb, but only the men!” Coirpre blurts. “Oops...”

“Coirpre!” I pinch his nose. “D-dear gods. Uhhh, Mrs. N...”

Holy God, the lioness smirks instead! “Ssh, darling. Tell me something I didn’t know,” she winks at me.

Meanwhile Ares faces off his father—a pair of tonfa in each of his grip while the older lion takes the _kun_ staff. Again with such unparalleled charisma the older lion roars at his cub, counting and barking orders with sounds of snapping coming from the weapon meeting the flesh can be heard in between. Ouch! But then again, lions throw their cubs into a cliff to face off against other animals and hunt to make them strong! My ears snap open too when his instructions can be heard even to here, at the living room where Coirpre and I hang out with Nanna! “Do not breathe in like that—if your opponent hits you harder than this, you’ll pass out. Move smart—make sure all your strikes hit their target!”

“Osu!”

And then sounds of weapons colliding against each other can be heard across the room as well. W-wew, Mr. Nordion is _too good_ for someone who suffered massive injury... but Ares is also fast and powerful! His tonfa parries and blocks all the strikes his father launches with that stick, and in a split second he nearly catches his father on the head. They stop and bow. Thanks to my potato brain, however, I cheerfully shout an encouragement! “Ah, you win~! That is awesome and your dad is so cool as well!”

Both father and son chuckle lightly after exchanging glances with each other while I bury my face. Sigh.

From Nanna, I get to know that the situation is more or less similar at the Claus family home! Altena is a diligent, hard-working martial artist. And when Leif approaches her to learn more about grappling and takedowns, she is more than willing to get her brother to work! They spar as if the world is going to end when the day changes. Altena suplexes him, locks his arms, disables his grips, slams him hard against the floor. Leif appears at school looking like his bones are falling out because the rough session with Altena makes his muscles sore, but as they keep working, he keeps improving and finally finds his rhythm.

Seliph can be seen hitting the sandbags every now and then at the sports hall—this is so crazy, the moment he ties his bandanna and redoes his pigtail, gone is the goofy and kind Seliph who will apologize for nearly trampling on an ant—there’s only a strong, determined seasoned tournament competitor who pours all his heart and soul in every move like he is more than eager to save the entire population of humankind! If not that, the boys can be seen either at the Crusader’s Ward with Diarmuid, or practicing what they call bridging hands at the sports hall.

People’s curiosity towards them rise just like two seasons past when all the crusaders were complete and obliterating every medal they could grab from an opponent. Arthur made a mini-interview to publish on the university bulletin so we can keep up with the battle preparation while Ishtar and Julius single-handedly save all the funding problems—not only that they throw Kempf and his cohorts under the bus, they are driving that bus off a cliff! Coming from rich socialite families, it does not take long for them to get sponsorship we need—donors, technicalities such as equipment, agreed prize, everything. They even paid Larcei for commission job designing the posters.

Finally, around nine days before competition, everything is set! Our sports hall is so colorful not only due to the posters and decorations, but also because representatives from prospective opponents begin arriving to check the venue and get to know the field. Holy Chu-Chu proudly welcomes all the teams heading towards Jugdral-U, including some cute goofy trio from Rigel College introducing themselves as Python, Lukas, and Forsyth. Wew, it seems we have more competitors compared to the others! T-this has to mean that there’s possibility that we’ll see strong fighters along the way, but...

“Oh, the hall is ready,” Ares looks around. “... Ah. We are so close...”

“We have tough competitors,” Leif grins. “I’m pumped but rather nervous.”

“I will protect everyone,” Seliph’s eyes are burning with resolve. “I will not let you down!”

“Listen, Captain,” Ares snorts, insolently puts Seliph into a headlock. “You’re not the only one fighting there. We are here too, so don't you dare overworking yourself.” Ah, this is so nice. He jokes like that and that headlock is simply friendly...

“Boys?” Altena claps her hands. “Let’s meet the officials and everything. Anyway—yes, I’m your spokesperson for this season! So let’s get acquainted...” she purposefully shoots the boys an evil look.

“Spokesperson? _Spook_ person you mean,” Leif grumbles—then winces when Altena grabs his waist.

“Harai-goshi!”

“Gaaah, Altena, do not judo-throw me like that!”

“It’s Madame Manager to you, Little Leafy.”

Days feel like flying—around a week from now the tournament will start! As the big day draws near, we only get to see even less of the boys at school. There is always, always something to train, either in a group or as their individual schedules demand it. Either they are always at some other part of campus to rehearse, spar, or even run and do physical improvements such as cardio and everything, the bottom part is that neither Ares nor Seliph walks the usual corridor again. They tend to be late or come just when the class is about to start because of all the morning training—Seliph runs, Ares drills cardio, and Leif strengthens his grappling techniques with Altena. This is real. This is coming. Ah, I wish for the best...

On the other hand, it’s getting harder to find Ares around! He hardly has any more time to spare for hanging out—he does not text me and his Instagram updates have died down, not just slowed. Lana and I speculate that perhaps the training cannot be shared publicly, or that the boys are just so exhausted that they have no other energy to spare after undergoing training sessions befitting for a champion. An architecture senior—perhaps bored by this time—just shakes her head when she sees me approaching their class; that is the code that no, Ares is not there, they do not even know where he’s gone or even whether he’ll take the class today. I cannot be selfish... so I take back the food I thought to give him as a mean of support and have it eaten with the girls instead. Hnnnh~!

... Although... although I cannot deny that I miss him. R-really, this sounds so selfish of me, but... but something truly feels incomplete when a day goes without interacting with him... and moreover, Fee drops a bomb that the boys are going to the Fiana dojo like Leif suggested since our school finally greenlighted the proposal. And not just that—they will be gone for around six days, leaving only a day to recharge when they get back before plunging straight into action. The dojo, manages by old masters Leif said to be called as Dorias and Augustus, should be the perfect location to exclusively train and hone the skills for being located in a rather hidden, tranquil region in Fiana and close to the beach.

I swallow hard—that means... that means I’ll only get to see Ares again when he is back to the ring. Missing him aside, I just want to know how he copes so far. If he is alright and everything, you know, since he did not even get to eat my food! And his father ferociously trained him too! I must be strong and patient, b-but...

“Seliph will be alright,” Lana whispers. “I believe in him.”

I believe in Ares too. However I cannot deny that my heart feels a bit heavy... perhaps for Leif and Seliph, this is just going to be another tournament. They may be ecstatic since Ares is back in the team with them, but for Ares... everything won’t just be as easy, right? It’s like readjusting to get used to a place you previously left. Although the absence is not that long, the impact is big and there is more than just fighting a bunch of other karateka from different schools there. Somehow my mind travels back to what Ares told me at the warehouse—the tournament is the mount he needs to conquer... not to be on top but also to cultivate himself as a person like a self-discovery journey... what is it that he hopes to gain? Will he be able to defeat... himself in the process? More importantly, what did he want to tell me?!

At home, even Coirpre is interested in the match! He even asks if he can come along to watch. Wanting to support Ares aside, sensible o’clock is here—I need to tell him that chances are they probably will not let him in; he is still a kid, the tournament is a full-body contact sport that things may get brutal! But of course, Coirpre being Coirpre, he does not take my explanation easily. ... Prove that we’re related! Hnn!

 “Uuu. I’m not that small,” he pouts. “And I kill humans and non-humans alike in games.”

“Yes, but you’re still a minor,” that makes me smile a little bit.

“Then can’t I see Coach N before he gets to fight?” Coirpre flashes puppy eyes at me. “Please?”

“He is deadly busy, you know. I haven’t even interacted with him again,” I ruffle his mane. “Don’t be selfish! ... T-that’s what I’ve been telling myself lately too. Sigh. If you want to support him, then let him concentrate on his training or whatever it is that needs doing so he can give his all in the tournament!”

“But I know you want to talk to him! C’mon, Sis, bag the lion home,” Coirpre pouts even sharper. “He is just a phone away, right? Whatchu waiting for? I know he is not going to reject your call!”

“I’m not a poacher, dear little brother!” I tickle him. “And a phone away is not a proper measurement!”

“Who cares if it is proper, Sis! You miss him! You just want to talk to him, not like, showing an ankle!”

“Aaah, Coirpre!!”

“You are the one talking about propriety there, not me!”

“No,” I roll my fists on his temples. “Bed time! Good night, Coco~!”

“Uuu. No funnn,” Coirpre grumbles again but retreat to his room, regardless.

Shaking my head with a small smile, I watch Coirpre’s little figure disappearing into the room. The clock on our wall tells me that it is around ten at night, so I turn off the TV and retreats to my bedroom as well. Ah, perhaps I should... study? Or finish this book instead. It’s been pretty engaging so far—the book is basically documenting cases where sport and dancing are like asymptotes for being so close but still separated somehow. The collective authors who will also be our guest panelists later do not mean to say that sport is useless, but rather, they want to present that such art and sport are actually closer than it seems even though people tend to commonly differentiate each other because dancing tends to be seen under the entertainment perspective, thus, making it seem like worth less or needing less work to train compared to lauded sports. It really is interesting! Combined with my experiences with coaching or even being in the cheer team, such question has been lingering on my mind and I’m glad there are experts who actually think the same and even write about this! I get my marker ready, and with the company of a bag of potato chips, I resume reading, setting my phone beside me.

... Hnnn. What a tranquil summer night. Too bad I cannot text Ares or exchange banters with him on Instagram as usual... the air is perfect to be lazy! I thought such atmosphere will make my reading experience better, but turns out, it gets... lonely. I wish I would not have to feel like this...

 _He is just a call away,_ Coirpre’s voice haunts me. Mindlessly, I take my phone from my side. Eh, gotta save Rose or I’ll accidentally sit on her! But eh... calling... Ares? We’ve never even called each other so far—everything is done by texts or Instagram messages. What... should I tell him on the phone? Asking him about his training and progress? What if that makes him... stressed? But telling him I miss him sounds so clingy—and not just that, corny! Besides, I’m not his girlfriend or anything...

... Right. I am not. I am not—

I put down my phone on my bed stand. Silly, if he can forego days without bantering with me, then I should stop wallowing in unnecessary emotional _cauliflowers_ and concentrate on my tasks too. T-this book needs to be resumed reading! And then I’ll pick up my course work to study. Ah, there goes my night. Why is it that I feel so restless that I don’t feel like sleeping yet? Or—yes, call Altena! Text her or anything, ask about the training and the Fiana dojo!

... But who am I to do such a thing? I mean—I mean, I’m not even in the team or anything...

Sigh. Lonely studying time then, I guess. Hello, book, we meet again. Sobs.

I’ve been reading for around half an hour when Rose vibrates beside me. I simply glance around—it’s not unusual to have Instagram notifications invadng my phone around this cozy hour. Perhaps it’s my friends, getting equally hyped by the tournament. Perhaps it’s Reinhardt wanting to know if his Bropoleon Bronaparte that is just-my-bro Saias going to be in the talkshow. Words travel and I imagine Arthur might have buzzed the upcoming event to attract viewers and audience by running a story about it on the bulletin. Or perhaps Lester glued another poster at Tirnanog today?

Huh, my phone keeps buzzing? Strange...

“Hello?”

“Good evening. Were you asleep?”

I—freeze at an instant. That voice just now. T-this can’t be real, right? T-this... “... Ares?” oh, gods—that came out as a whisper. I must have sounded so meek, but I do... miss him...

“Haha, yes. It’s me. Did I wake you up?” he says. A-as expected, he does sound nice on the phone too...

“Mm. Not actually, no. I was just—eh, reading the book from Holy Chu-Chu,” I quickly respond, feeling so dumb realizing that of course Ares cannot see me shaking my head. The good part is that this way he cannot see how happy and relieved I am! Aaah, for some reason I feel like crying...

“Oh. A diligent rabbit,” he replies in that kind of innocent tone again. “Anyway, your voice is fading.”

Wew? “J-just a minute!” ah, why, during a time like this! I quickly walk to the window with my phone being glued to my ear. Not wanting to waste more time since this has never happened before, with one pull I separate the curtains and drawing the window open. Cool summer breeze immediately greets me from the outside while cricket sounds follow. There are a few cars speeding under my apartment and the moon looks so beautiful for being rounded-full and luminous like that... ah, the virtue of staying at the third floor. Still (pretty close) down to (the) earth, hehe! Hold on, where was I again? Aaah, yes, Ares! This is not the time to feel so taken by the beauty of the night! ... Um, yes, actually, but like, something is more important here! “Ares?” I return my attention to the phone. “Can you hear me now?”

“Call my name again...”

“... Ares?” I speak louder this time. “Um, I’m at the balcony, should be better now! Ares...?”

“Yeah.”

“I suppose! Ah, thank God~! So...”

“So don’t sit over the fence like that, rabbit. Dangerous.”

Eh? “Great, now that we can talk, you’d rather talk about fence. Hnnn.”

“Ah, now you are pouting.”

Huh? “H-hold on. You are saying...” I take myself off the fence to look down... and gasp. I-it’s really him! Ares stands tall under my window, smiling as he waves at me. The moonlight falls onto his hair, making those blond hair strands appear shiny that he is almost ethereal right now. “Oh, gods,” the previously enthusiastic responses change into... faint whispers. “I’m—coming down!”

He simply chuckles, pocketing back his phone. I really can’t believe it. My face must have been rather puffy and sweaty since I rushed out of my room to see him. But... but I do want to see him again! And now that he is here, standing before me in a black sweatshirt and lightweight gray pants. Ah, my emotions are flowing... “Sorry for calling you this late and making you meet me like this.”

“N-no problem,” gosh, I should be stronger too! D-don’t look so melancholic now, Lene, hnnn!

“I’m leaving for Fiana with Seliph and Leif to train with Masters Dorias and August,” he explains. “And we are departing early morning tomorrow. I don’t think I can see you until the tournament begins. The training took most of my time and today I thought, after finishing my running reps...”

“Oh, it’s alright! I-it’s alright, really!” yesss, successfully changing my tone to be more cheerful!

“... Hmmm.”

“Besides, I understand! This tournament is so important to you,“ I tick his nose. “I was just wondering how you are holding up. I’m sure you work hard, but how about the rest? Like, did you get enough sleep? Did you eat a lot... ah, are there foods you should and should not eat at times like this? How is your body keeping up, are you feeling sore or something? Are you well-rested? And...”

“And I know you are worried,” eh, h-his fingers catch mine... “That is why I am here.” He digs into his other pocket, drawing something... something which I did not catch because I’ve been being too busy averting my eyes from his. Casually he places this little-something onto my hand, and only then I get to see what he has put there...

Chocolate! A bar of milk chocolate with strawberry filling contained in a stylishly cute pink wrapper!

“Oh...” ... Oh my God. Oh wow. Oh—

“I never bought one myself,” he blurts awkwardly. “So I asked the minimarket lady to get me one with the cutest wrapper she could think of and prayed the taste wouldn’t disappoint.”

... This endearing... lion demon...

He ends his short visit by telling me that he will just need to finish one lap and then heading home. Apparently he is stealing a chance to train after delivering for his mother. On the way back from the last house he delivered, the 24-hour minimarket nearby was open that he got an idea to buy the chocolate. He gently kicks me out of this conversation by telling me to get inside as it’s getting late—my eyes still tether in his like they truly know what I harbor in mind that they just refuse to leave like that. I know I need to go back; after all it’s late for him too and he needs a good rest so he won’t be too tired to start training again when he arrives in Fiana. But my body just won’t move...

He sighs. There’s a small smile on his face, I wonder if it equally pains him to leave me as well. He looks down, whispering—deeper than a fine velvet, rich like a nourishing soup ....

“Don’t make that face. I will return.”

Of course. Sure he will. He never runs away, and I—

... I squeeze his hand. Best dancer is ready to support best Black Knight in his noble quest to save Jugdral-U! 

* * *

 

It is finally here!!

When my last class is over, I’m flying through the corridor to reach the sports hall. Apparently I am not the only person with similar thoughts—other Jugdral-U students are crowding every side of the corridors I am racing. Chit-chats and murmurs can be heard nearly everywhere, with Arthur and Fee scooting around here and there—with Fee getting annoyed having to answer for the tenth time that yes, the crusaders are fully back into action, including the infamous Black Knight. Arthur initially simply wanted to randomly record whether other students are enthusiastic about the tournament so he could make a dramatic mini-movie for the sake of school documentation and available on request should those who want to follow the tournament like a TV-presented event think of buying a copy.

I bundle together with Larcei and Lana to get to the sports hall while Fee goes with Arthur. It’s almost like he reports while she provokes other students to come watching—either way, whatever she is saying seems to be working, even if they just come to hate-watch Ares. Disliking Ares aside, the crusaders will draw a crowd wherever they go, and there are more than considerable people willing to come solely to see Seliph in action. My heart races as we hasten our paces—finally, to see Ares in his natural habitat; in the sense that this ring will represent everything that is honorable and good to pursue. Not the savagery at the Yied Avenue, but rather, the place where the true meaning of being the Black Knight is!

... The boys have worked so hard. Within around five-six days they spent in Fiana, there was only one time when Leif set up a video call with Nanna. Either we were all lucky or that Leif adjusted the time so we all could talk to the boys, he showed us the modest but comfortable room he shared with Seliph and Ares—just a room with three single beds and three modest closets, with a window with a beach view. It seems the place is purposefully designed to minimize distraction... not only that, during that only video call session we were having with them, Seliph told Lana that the training had been interesting, but exhausting. As expected from a quarantined session befitting for a champion, what they experienced was close to a special forces’ strength-building routine. The masters had the boys _run_ in the seas not just by the shore—the boys would purposefully train during the night when the moon was high and bright to punch and kick against the waves! Even it was tiring _as hell_ by Seliph’s standard—he chuckled retelling how they took turn massaging each other’s waist, thigh, and shoulders because that beach session nearly drained everyone out, even including Ares who specializes in horse stances and explosive powerful kicks as how it is in Shotokan. Leif groaned about being subjected to strict vegetarian diet while Ares innocently told me that he felt as if he just tried to fight fifty people all at once after being made to run by the shores in circles (yes) and strengthen his stance by kicking at the waves to cleave into them (YES). Noticing our collective concerned expression, Seliph quickly told us that they could still keep going while Ares promised not to let me down. Leif had a better idea, however!

“Welcome to our crib,” Leif chuckled. “Seliph has the tidiest bed among us. Ares’ is a cryptid,” at that time, he rolled his phone to show us around. We laughed and giggled for automatically recognizing who had what because of some specific items scattering around the bed—Seliph’s Bermuda shorts, for example... wew, who would have thought he wore Bermuda pants? The boys also put certain items on their bed stands—like a distinctive sword-shaped pendant Seliph typically wears, the power bank charger in the shape of a panda Leif uses, a gift from Nanna... but when the phone made its final stop, I felt... shy.

... Of course I recognized the something on that specific bed stand.

“So cryptid. Is this a hand-grenade or just a harmless cute plushie?” Leif chirped, granting us a view of a cute lion plushie with... something encircling its neck. “Or is the plushie a convenient belt holder?”

... Alright, Leif, it was mine. I-it was the lion plushie I bought for Ares when we were in Miletos! H-he brought it along with him to Fiana?! Oooh my God! And y-yes, his karate belt encircled the little lion! Of course I could see that it was his—two thick golden strips with _Nordion_ embroidered onto it!

“Ah, pay no mind to him,” Ares smacked Leif across the head. “He’s an uncultured swine.”

... If only he did not smirk on camera at me, however.

Alright, the sports hall is so lively! There are also supporters of other schools gathering in here. It seems the matches have started even prior to my last class today—understandable, the competitors are quite many and they really wanted the qualification to be concluded as soon as possible. This is semi-formal still, everything feels rather casual and giving an opportunity for free-form fighting although it will still adhere a karate frame. Shouts and battle cry can be heard by the time we arrive! Larcei and Lana start exchanging worried glances with me—what do we do now, should we just sit down? Are these seats even taken? Apparently they are about to enter a ten-minute break, and we did not even follow the event from the beginning; with it being a martial arts tournament, needless to say we are clueless! Thankfully, a familiar face shows us the light—it’s Diarmuid! With the Liberation band too! Aaaa~!

“Hello there, ladies! The seats around ours are still not taken yet! Better grab them fast before they start again because supporters of other schools’ contingents will be here as well!” he says. We quickly grab the coziest seats nearby the band group, noticing that the row we picked has the best view and most comfortable to be. Wow, what is this miracle?

“Ah, you guys made it,” another voice startles us.

“Ishtar...” I look at her, who puts a cool demeanor as always. Julius is beside her, acting like we exist in a universe outside of theirs as always. But then again something just dawns on me—how come is this row just conveniently not taken like this? D-did she...

As if understanding what I have in mind, Ishtar shrugs. “Yeah. Julius and I are primary donors. Of course that comes with privilege,” she remarks without wanting to look at me. Right when Larcei is close to smack her face for that typical rich girl arrogant demeanor stunt, I squeeze her hand.

“I understand! Thank you~!”

She blinks—her mouth is wide open that even Julius bows his head a little bit. As if realizing she is supposed to be Ishtar, she simply swats my hand, shifting in her seat and tilts her head away from me. “... I was thinking... sitting with friends would be... nice.”

She protests when I squeeze her hand again, so I give her another warm squeeze as my warm smile follows. Julius clears his throat and this time I act as if nothing happened, darting my eyes onto the arena. Oh, it seems another pair of contestants just finished... ah, now I feel a bit stupid. Should have asked Ares about scoring and rules before I came here...

“Seliph and the crusaders,” Julius finally says something, lessening the awkwardness between Ishtar and the rest. “They wiped out their opponents so far. Especially that lion of yours—“

“I’m not listening any insult towards Ares today, Julius. For God’s sake, he’s had enough.”

“No, peasant,” he clicks his tongue, acting so annoyed as if having to explain things to a donkey. “I did not mean that as an insult. There’s time for everything—if I just want to insult your ilk, there’s no need for me to sit here as a donor.”

... He’s got a point, though.

I decide to ask Diarmuid or Ulster about the matches but eh, something... or rather, someone, distracts us! It’s a girl, quiet and timid, craning her neck back and forth. She dresses well and elegantly in a way which reminds me of one of those rich high school girls who go to private, elite schools, and carries herself suavely. The innocent look she darts around immediately alerts me. However, she looks pretty confident to be awkward. Like she is aware she is a stranger, but knows what she has to do! Right when I want to ask Ishtar and Julius if this is one of their VIP-kind of guests, the girl accidentally locks eyes with me! She does not say anything, so I take initiative instead. “Uh... hello? Can I help you~?”

“This is... Jugdral University, right?” she asks.

Hnnn? “Ah—yes? Yes, of course! Why, are you lost?” I look at her. Nice long purple hair...

“I came to watch Seliph but it seems I am late...” she says lightly. “My brother should be around, but I’m not sure where to find him. Papa always tells me that he has important things to do or learn. No fun.”

“Oh,” I murmur. Ah, so the younger sibling’s agony is real! I uh... I promise will treat Coirpre better. Sigh. But then again... Seliph? And... brother? “I’m—sorry, are you saying you are Seliph’s...”

“Sister?” she asks back. When I nod, she smiles a little bit—her eyes light up and it’s as if everything changes for the better—she looks so beautiful and carefree, and that smile is contagious! “Not really.”

“Eh?”

“I can sit here, right...?” she asks softly. Before any of us could say anything, however, she conveniently slides into the empty chair located between Ulster and Diarmuid—who has Patty by his right side. Ulster gasps a little upon feeling something has touched him, so he turns around to meet this girl right in the eyes. The girl, however, unperturbed, merely casts aside her skirt a little bit to make everything comfortable for both of them—and smiles at him. “Hello?”

“Eh—hi?” Ulster gulps. I’ve never seen him like that before! Even Larcei cranes her neck, grinning like a serial killer in thriller movies as if she reads my mind!

“Oh, there my brother is,” the girl mutters innocently. We all follow where she tilts her head, and look back at her with various, different expressions on our faces. T-the seat where she looked!

“Your brother is—eh, Julius?!” even I cannot stop myself from gasping!

“Yes. My twin,” she responds calmly.

“Twin?!”

Julius gets distracted by our shouting. He also turns around, and nods at the new girl. She simply responds by nodding back—just it, just like that, before both siblings return their attention back to the arena. The girl does not even seem to be disturbed by Julius’ half-baked acknowledgment of her presence like that. W-wew, no wonder she came to support Seliph if he makes a better relative than her very own actual brother! Uh-oh, I don’t want to pry into a stranger’s life, but that was just...

However the girl still keeps a straight face, as if she expected nothing else than what just unfolded before us. Instead, she smiles warmly at Ulster, extending a hand at him. “Julia. I was looking around—finished my schooling abroad and now I’m considering transferring to Jugdral-U. You?”

“Ulster...” Larcei’s twin mumbles somewhat intelligibly. Out of reflex he grabs a handkerchief out of his pocket, cleaning his right hand before shaking Julia’s hand! “Eh—sorry. The best for best impression.”

Julia giggles softly as Ulster turns into a zombie.

Another figure emerges from the back door located near the arena. Now this one, I recognize at an instant—Altena! She looks so happy to find us at the VIP seats that she quickly waves at us—a gesture which makes Diarmuid and Lana jump at an instant! “We’re starting in like, seven minutes,” she says, landing a quick glance on her watch. “Aren’t you gonna meet our crusaders back there?”

“Sure!” without wasting another breath Lana leaps from her seat. Diarmuid mumbles a thing or two about checking on Ares since—as he puts it—Ares has been training like a war horse; something which caught my attention that I quickly follow their steps.

Meanwhile, Altena leaves us to disappear to the other corner of the arena. She finds Holy Chu-Chu and starts talking with him—who then introduces her to the jury and officials he is also talking to. Wow, everyone looks important. And judging from those VIP’s expressions, they seem to appreciate her; they warm up to her the way they smile and laugh with Holy Chu-Chu. Perhaps Altena’s presence in the martial arts world is not new either...

I peek inside. Everyone seems to be busy. Nanna and Lana are helping to check on the boys’ injuries. Suddenly I have doubts. Do I belong here? Should I? But eh... Altena said to just get inside. And I do want to support Ares! Dragging my steps slowly I slide in. Wew, this is the first time I’ve ever seen Ares in his complete karate gear... admittedly, I’m powerless to resist this sudden overflowing feeling rising from under my chest! H-he really is here. Not just, you know, being physically here; he is here, taking back the ring—the rightful place where he reigns with Seliph and Leif, who warm up when I get inside. Anyway...

Ares is changing. His back faces me; a small mirror can be seen to be in front of him. He really did not see me coming, but at the same time it gives me a better... ummm, opportunity to look at him! And... wow, I mean—I’ve seen him being shirtless and only in boxers, even—but there is something different now that he truly is in full-blown karate gear. I don’t know if it is the gi; after all, his prowess is not what makes me attracted to him in the first place, and if I am to speak of his kind personality, it does not show while he is in this gear, because if anything, the karate gi exudes... strength. Like there’s this certain warrior aura coming from him, the way I could sense it when Seliph trained—as if they have become a completely different person with charisma and skill more than worthy of respect.

... And now he turns around...

He looks at me. A-and I... I look at him too. Somehow I can’t speak, so I merely hands him a paper bag I’m holding... “S-sausages you love! Um, please fight well!” where has my courage... gone?

He chuckles, taking the bag from me. “I sure will, my emotional support dancer.”

Somehow he appears—different. Like, like someone unreachable; tall and strong, but also... _far._ Like he is this formidable crusader warrior belonging in the cool kids club while I’m just... I don’t even really know how to take care of wounds like Lana does. Ah, what’s this sudden... inferiority feeling? Ares looks so strong, so bright and dazzling before me. His belt—oh, God, I reflexively bring my hand to touch it; the karate black belt with two golden strips marking his rank and the embroidered last name on it. He lets me appraising him like that. He, who normally despises others doing such for making him feel like he is an auctioned beast. But he lets me. He lets me touching the belt; as if he too wants to absorb that this is very real, that he is competing again, that he dons his rightful equipment after a painful dormant period... “Welcome back...” awh, I’m getting so emotional. S-so, so emotional...

“... I’m glad that it was you whom I found when I turned around,” he murmurs...

“How... how does it feel?” I whisper. “How does it feel, to have this one back around your waist...?”

“... Strange,” he closes his eyes.

“Oh...”

“... But at the same time, warm like reuniting with an old friend. Like... home.”

Ah...

“... And now that you are here,” he rubs his nose. “... Somehow I feel like I can do anything.”

“Ares, ready?” Altena calls in. Seliph and Leif fix their gears—Leif tightens his belt while Seliph redoes the bandage wrapping his left fist. Ares watches himself once again in the mirror before amassing his hair strands to tie it into a high ponytail.

“Get them, meow!” I flash a V sign at him, patting his shoulder like a cowboy.

He smirks playfully, however, pointing at his ponytail. “Now I have matching hairstyle with yours. ... Why, are you blushing?” he truly chuckles this time. Before he can make another comment, I shove something into his hand, prompting him to stop laughing. “Oh. This is...”

“Hairclip! It’s a hairclip!” darn it, my cheeks must be red now...

“Mm-hmmm. With strawberry shape and pattern,” he nods innocently. “... So... tiny...”

“Then bow down, please~?”

“Sure, Your Ladyship.”

I pinch his ribs. He grins but obediently bows, anyway, and Altena cackles like the bro-est of the bros among us here while Seliph and Leif can only stare with their mouths agape. Ares simply bows, letting me make a quick fix of his hair. He isn’t at all protesting when I slide the hairclip between his hair strands! Gently taking his face with my hands, I guide him back to look in the mirror, giggling a little bit since he looks so amazed just because of a simple touch like that. “Now your fringes won’t get in the way~!”

“Understood—this way I won’t allow anyone to strike me in the head, otherwise this tiny strawberry may break.” H-he... he sticks his tongue at me! Aaa—“More the reason why I must win.”

... I can only drag him out to the arena, otherwise he’ll notice how red my face is...

W-wew, now Lana and I are back to our seats. Hosts mention a thing or two about thanking the newly-arriving audience as well as the old ones returning from the ten-minute break. Ah, thankfully they repeat the rules and scoring! The most important thing is that it will run like a typical kumite match runs despite being free-form—winner is he who manages to score three ippon or six waza-ari during a two-minute intense fight—three minutes for black belt finals. Diarmuid tells that generally Shotokan free-form kumite accepts practitioners of five years and above, but he does not know if it is also the case when it comes to other schools. Coaching is forbidden too, so basically the boys will have nobody but themselves once they are in. An ippon is worth three points by performing a vigorous, accurately executed upper-level kick or for overpowering the opponent when he is unbalanced or being thrown down. Waza-ari—two points—is when the fighter lands a nice middle-level kick while a punch gets one point. At this point, Diarmuid says Shotokan generally allows side-head kick only if the opponent’s head isn’t moving, so a hook kick against the head is usually preferred to score an ippon!

“All body parts are fine then?” Lana asks.

“Basically. Just use common sense, like not striking the other guy’s crotch or kicking the face gear heads-on with the purpose of destroying the gear and ruining his life,” Diarmuid grins. “Now I understand why Uncle Eldie says the traditional way is fiercer—the rule is that you survive.”

W-wew...

“And how is it going so far?” I ask again.

“Well, let’s say nobody is safe from our crusaders,” Diarmuid chuckles. “But there’s another problem...”

Huh?

Ah, there’s no need to ask further because the host has announced for the tournament to continue. I imagine everything will be fast-paced and perhaps brutal considering the fights are short by duration. Not only that, the techniques need to be nicely executed too! Our boys fix their protective gears and Leif walks up to the arena as the first among the group to fight. His opponent is taller and bigger, but the moment they are told to begin, this really isn’t the same Leif I used to know—that chaotic energy which normally entertains us evolves into something... feral. Something hot and burning as he takes on his opponent without running or retreating in the slightest. Diarmuid’s voice explaining to Patty and Ulster about the rule—if a fighter backs off from the arena and remains idle for more than a minute, then his opponent is automatically rewarded a point—practically escapes me because I’ve been watching Leif ferociously flooring his opponent like all his life depends on it. Nanna clutches on me, feeling the intensity as well that I squeeze her back, joining her silent prayer wishing for the best for our boys. Meanwhile Arthur sneaks to catch a good shot when Leif finally takes down his opponent! Jugdral-U supporters welcome his victory with thunderous applause as Leif and the guy he KO’d bow to each other.

“This is thanks to you,” Leif hugs Altena when he retreats from the arena. “Hey, I’ve got a cool sister!” shouting at the crowd he sneaks an arm around Altena, who tries so hard to appear uneasy although her eyes start to fog. Ah, I remember how she said people find her intimidating. I hope this will change everything for the better for her as well! My friends truly are great, kind folks with a big heart!

Seliph goes next. There is a Seliph-craze among the crowd because they welcome him like a mega celebrity even before he steps into the arena. Everyone chants his name, calls for him that their shouts and praises alone nearly bring down the hall! Seliph simply waves back at the crowd and even bows at them, trying to contain the masses. Now I understand, he probably feels awkward if not burdened realizing how many people who look at him in such idolizing way that he vows to never disappoint any...

“Seliph!” Lana joins hundreds to cheer. Seliph does not look like breaking a sweat when taking on his opponent! It’s like he is absorbing anything thrown at him only to charge back like a wave. He does not look like using a lot of power but anything he launches brings his opponent to successfully kiss the floor. Those deadly arm locks, the devastating mid-section kicks—the crowd gets llivelier and livelier until his two-minute match ends and they declare him the winner. Ah, our boys manage to be on top rank-wise because they keep ending every match with an ippon! It seems that is the strategy they want to play—respond effectively that even if the opponent can steal a point, they have to score an ippon.

And coming up next...

... It is Ares. He exhales while Altena helps him putting on the protective gear. He tilts his head at the crowd and I raise a thumb at him. I am here... I am watching you... so please fight free...

Strangely the crowd’s mood shifts. Like... like nobody says anything compared to the enthusiastic welcome they had for Leif and Seliph! I glance around. Even Diarmuid cocks an eyebrow that he looks left and right as if asking himself if the whole thing was even real. Oh, perhaps we need to wait? But...

Ares kicks his opponent to oblivion through a side-head sweep the moment they are told to begin. Ah, simply Ares. Deadly strikes without wasted fancy moves, simply aimed to take down the opponents. But nobody still says anything, not even after Ares leaves the arena and adds another ippon for the group! This starts making me feel... uncomfortable. But as the matches keep rolling, two-three times that Ares takes the arena after Seliph the crowd grows quiet!

The boys take a breather as they begin to count scores. “Do they hate your cousin that much?” Patty mumbles as she leans on Diarmuid’s shoulder. Lana looks a bit worried, and the mood practically shifts even when the giant LCD displays that our boys are more than qualified to proceed to the semi-final. Ah, everything is so intense and fast-paced! Not to mention—brutal! There is an instance where Leif has to receive multiple blows against his thigh because his opponent wants to unbalance him, but training with Altena who is proficient in throw-downs helps him overcoming that. I cannot count how many times Seliph absorbs kicks and punches aiming at his chest with his right forearm, or Ares leaving the arena clutching on his left arm, limping as he walks because he has been using the same body part as a shield.

“Is it normally... like this?” I ask Diarmuid. And nobody still cheers for Ares so far?

“Well...” Diarmuid can only spare an apologetic smile to me. Something catches our attention because an opponent manages to throw Ares out of the ring. There is a sharp kick which got him in his wrist—that limping arm’s wrist because he raised that hand to protect his head.

“H-he got hit!” I grab Diarmuid.

“Ouch. The opponent stole an ippon out of him,” he winces too. Ares drags himself out with Altena checking on him. From here, I can see that the moment he takes off his helmet Altena quickly presses iced water over the limping arm to reduce strain. Oh, it’s red! Red all over the place; bruised like no other. I hold my breath when he tilts his head at me again, pointing at the hair clip with a small smile as if telling me that my hairclip is still intact.

 _I won’t allow anyone to strike me in the head, otherwise this tiny strawberry may break,_ he said.

... Silly lion demon, why are you always—always—

“Booo!” voices from the crowd startle me. Really now? REALLY? After everything that happened—after every effort he did to carry the team? “Act high and mighty and you end up a loser as always!”

Huh?

“Yeah, get out of there, Black Knight! Why are you dragging Seliph down?!”

H-hold on. That’s—

Seliph rises from the stool he has been occupying, raising his arm to stop the voices. But Ares drags him back to the chair and everything proceeds as always—with him wincing once or twice when Altena rubs his arm with a cream. Meanwhile the fight begins again, with tougher opponents fighting for a place in the finals. Seliph seems to be nearing his limit too, and Leif is... tired! He stands motionless at the corner for fifteen seconds or so as if relieving his body a bit before pouncing again. Julius shouts a cuss when Seliph finds himself nearly getting taken down because his opponent sweeps his ankle off the floor. T-they are truly defending their position with everything they have—or rather, everything left in them.

“Until the end!” Seliph’s voice barks across the silent hall now that people are waiting in nervous anticipation as Seliph fortifies his stances because receiving a takedown risks an ippon. Meanwhile, Leif lifts people’s spirit when he returns to fight again. He just got body-slammed so hard which nearly threw him out of the ring which he evaded with a jump, shouting how he is not going to run from his own fight. What just happened sees Seliph giving a perfect ippon despite being tightly cornered and Leif adds four waza-ari for striking back as he defends his position from an opponent who is way too keen on kicking him out of the arena. What’s left would be either two more ippon to grant us victory, or making the waza-ari even by scoring two more to make it six. And that responsibility falls on Ares...

Ares enters the arena. On the other side, his opponent is waiting. Meanwhile the sports hall is as silent as a ghost town. Diarmuid’s eyebrows twitch and Patty glances around, looking sour. Needless to say they are both displeased and concerned because of the way the other students blatantly reject Ares. Anxiously I look on to the arena. The opponent is approaching... “They don’t like you,” he says frankly.

“I know,” Ares shrugs.

W-wew...

Ares gets into a stance. Ah, I recognize that one. That’s similar to what he tried explaining to me when he stayed overnight in my house. Y-yeah, that time when I accidentally caught him fresh off the shower that I turned him down because... because I got too shy. Sigh. ... Tekki, right? Tekki... sandan? The iron horse or something like that?

Ah, they bow! Come on, Ares, come on—two ippon, please, please, dear gods—grant us two ippon. This tough guy over there is the last barrier we need to break to reach the finals! Please—

“Lower kick!” Diarmuid holds his breath.

R-right, it’s something similar to a soccer kick! Ares deflects that one. If it’s similar to soccer kick, then... then he should know that better too. He merely taps the incoming kick with his left hand, again slamming that worn-out arm against another person’s dominant leg like that. I hope he is alright. Even lion demons are not invincible and can get tired after a while! Ares seems to understand that his left arm is bothering him, so he quickly charges back while the opponent whose attack he just deflected recovers. Ares swings his right arm like a spreading wing to hit the opponent’s side of the head while his left one quickly moves to parry a follow-up attack. When the opponent wants to knee his stomach, Ares tilts, using that spread arm to unbalance the opponent.

The opponent falls down but recovers quickly. “... The Black Knight of Shotokan tigers, isn’t it?”

“Yeah?” Ares takes a step back, readying to respond another attack.

“I don’t like you either,” his opponent sneers. “Not all Yied guys are mediocre, just so you know.”

“... I see,” Ares narrows his eyes. “Yied or not, you don’t have to like me still.”

His opponent swings again, darting another low kick like prior. Huh, is he trying another soccer kick? But the one before this failed! Ares counters again by attempting to take him down after planting a firm grip over the outline of his gi. But in a split second like he is being surprised, Ares raises his knee, changing his position that he slides horizontally instead of countering heads-on like prior. But that position does put him at risk because the opponent seizes the chance to hammer his heel against Ares’ instep!

... In a silent hall like this, even a falling needle makes an audible sound. More so when the lion grunts in pain, awkwardly retreating to the corner of the arena while a referee separates them both...

“He is in pain,” Diarmuid clutches on the chair he is occupying. “Son of a bitch, he really wanted to ruin Ares—look at the way he makes his fist—the index finger is out.”

“Eh. Y-yes? And that means...?” I shoot a wary look back to the arena.

“He did want to hit his crotch,” Diarmuid grimaces. “Or paralyzing him by the waist. If that hits, Ares won’t be able to walk now.”

... Oh, God...

The referee begins counting since Ares hasn’t moved from the corner. Seliph and Leif look at him—expression of nervousness and concern can be seen looming over their faces while Ares exhales again and again to withstand the pain... “Thirty seconds,” the referee warns him. R-right, if this keeps going on until a minute, the opponent will get a point! And they still need to make two ippon to be in the finals! Ares takes a step forward, limping and tumbling. But with him moving, it is received as a signal that he is ready to fight again, when that truly is not the case.

Another step. Another chance of eyebrows twisting in pain.

“He drags us down as always,” murmurs from the crowd can be heard where I sit. “That Black Knight is a poser. Is that what he is doing all along—picking those fights knowing well he _can_ win?”

... What in the world...

“Hey, you—!” Patty is so ready to give a piece of her mind at the audience, but Diarmuid stops her.

“... No,” he smiles sadly. “Believe me, if I was Ares, he’d say the same.”

... That is true... I need to do something. It’s alright to lose, but if this is how it is going to be, then...

“... Lene?” Larcei widens her eyes beside me. Slowly, I take off my shoes and climbs onto my seat. Ishtar catches the small motion I’m making, and she too, stops talking to Julius to look at me. Lana waits in anticipation, half-curious yet half-worried because slow but sure, I pick myelf up to... stand.

“Ooh!” even Diarmuid and Patty gasp. I am _standing_ over the chair I’m occupying, surprising even Ares, the opponent, the boys, Altena and Holy Chu-Chu combined. Ares looks at me, and I smile at him. Usually I use my long scarf as dancing property, but since there is no such a thing at the moment...

“... What?” the audience goggle their eyes at me. Calmly, I take off my favorite lacey pink-and-white ribbon I’m wearing to tie my ponytail, spreading my hair loose in the process. Ares’ eyes are glued at me, but Altena casually slaps his butt, clearing her throat as if telling him to concentrate on the _now._

“Dude..." she wants to grin, but shifts into a groan since she has to act firm in public. "Alas, you have become dumber."

“What can I say, Alty, I'm a simple man," Ares smirks when Altena _kicks_ his butt from behind. Hnnn? Haha, what is it about my hair which stole his tongue like that? Ah, right, is it because I usually wear my hair in a ponytail? Or... ah, does Ares want to dye his hair green?

“Give your dancer some music,” grinning, I look at Ulster. “Hit it, Liberation band!”

“Yooo!” Patty responds enthusiastically, beatboxing as Ulster and Diarmuid join her to yell.

“Go, go, Crusaders!” they singsong from their seats, tearing the air and silence around us. Meanwhile, I lift my leg, mimicking a graceful swan’s position as I twist on the chair, throwing a smile at Ares, waving my ribbon back and forth.

“Go Ares, go Ares, fight! Go Black Knight! Go, Crusaders! Jugdral-U to the light and beyoooond~!”

I don’t care if I am the only one doing this. The new girl Julia peeks at me while Ishtar smiles, shaking her head. Julius smirks like he is enjoying a scene too! “How childish,” he scoffs, but... “Hey, Seliph! Do not die there, you hear?!”

Oh...

Ares looks at me. There’s disbelief, but also... adoration because slowly his warm, warm smile emerges as his lips curve beautifully. I wink at him, spinning and making my ribbon do the bidding. “Ares! Ares! Ares!!” I keep shouting his name even though the meanest frat boys shoot dagger-glare at me. Ulster and Diarmuid clasp as hard as they can. Yeah, perhaps I’m going to make a fool of myself so badly today. Perhaps people will mercilessly skewer me with their gazes and words after this—but I don’t care. If I have to go down, let it be with a fight. And let that fight be benefiting for... for him...

“Miss,” a tournament official quickly catches up after my action took them all off guard. “Miss, please—back to your seat or I will have to remove you.”

“Go Areeeees!!!” I scream as hard as I can, finishing a turn before returning to sit. I—I’ve done my part...

I can hear someone inhaling nearby. Uh oh, who will be the first to chew me for this? Holy Chu-Chu?

“Jugdral-U, to the light and beyond!!”

... Huh? It’s...

... It is Ishtar. It is Ishtar!!

Ishtar stands on her chair, cupping her mouth and yells so loud like that. She looks back while I’m too busy goggling my eyes at her because—because, who would have thought... and... she smiles. When I was about to talk to her, she puts back her icy demeanor and acts as if nothing happened! Unexpectedly, our efforts actually move the crowd—murmurs and whispers begin to color the hall, first coming like buzzes, and then... a deluge.

“Right, why are we here if we are not cheering for our crusaders? We are so close anyway! Yes, go get him! Go, Black Knight!! Fight, fight, fight~~!!” people shout and cheer.

“Oops,” I wink again at Ares when he traps my eyes with his. People are now cheering madly for him, a total difference compared to prior. Ares makes a warming-up motion where his opponent waits like a hunter finding the beast whose head has been wanted to decorate the wall...

They fight again. The attack against his instep truly staggers him as it’s remain untreated. The opponent grabs the outline of his gi, forcing Ares to bow his head down. Ares spreads his arms to break the movement while the overworked arm serves as a barrier because his opponent is determined to slam a knee against his face. Ares dodges the incoming move, but the opponent takes the opportunity to seize him instead. For a moment people are silent because it looks like a fatal throw is on the way, but Diarmuid shouts to cheer his cousin again and again that it keeps people’s hopes up as well. There is a nerve-wrecking low growl coming from the arena because the opponent tries to stop Ares from escaping the joint lock with a kick against the shin, leaving Ares wincing like half of his reflexes are gone. We brace ourselves when a sharp roundhouse kick swiftly takes off to catch Ares from the sides while the lion is still—there; nailed to the ground and everything...

“Nooo!” Patty shrieks so loudly as she grabs Diarmuid.

“... No.”

T-that one just now...

“I told her I’m keeping this hairclip intact.”

Nobody says a word. Ares swiftly deflects, pivoting with his healthy leg instead of the jammed one receiving multiple blows just now. He stops the incoming kick by jamming his elbow against the opponent’s inner calf, sending jolting pain all over the other guy’s body that he stops moving for a moment. But that pause is definitely the opening Ares has been waiting for because he quickly grabs the offending leg, locking it back with his forearm while his palms do the work. We are all watching a spectacular moment because Ares turns the table—it does not look much by the inexperienced eyes like mine, but he pushes the opponent’s leg on the side of the knee with a slight twist, greatly unbalancing him. The opponent is trapped and not be able to hold any longer as Ares keeps pushing. T-this should be it. The opponent will kiss the floor in not time so that Ares can land the last blow, earning a point, right? Then...

Diarmuid gapes. With the left leg Ares brings down a hook kick against the half-sprawling opponent...

“Ippon!”

“Oh!” Diarmuid and I clutch on each other because of the tension. The opponent grunts, looking so mad as he takes himself off the ground. He darts another kick—

“... And another,” the referee calmly announces by the time Ares catches the leg again, slamming him hard against the mattress and finishes everything with a punch landing straight over the solar plexus. “In a short time as well! Jugdral-U proceeds to final match!”

“Aaaaaahhh!!” on the front row, Patty jumps while Diarmuid and I nearly knock each other’s forehead for still clutching in anticipation like that. The supporters erupt. Altena wipes her eyes—she is crying! S-she is probably so worried too, after all, nobody knows the boys better than her at the arena.

“Seliph, Seliph, Seliph!” people cheer. “Leif! Leif!!”

I share a mischievous look with Diarmuid. He nods and grins, and we yell on top of our lungs. “ARES!!”

We storm the arena. Diarmuid sobs the moment he gets his cousin back! “D-darn it. I thought you would pass out. That was tekki shodan, wasn’t it? Never thought it could be so powerful like that. I thought kata was meant to train your form.”

“Eh,” Ares scratches his head. Aww, the ferocious champion is gone at an instant, replaced by a shy nerd! Hnnn, stop being so adorably cute like that! “That’s sandan—the third iron horse. And no, the kata had always been created with fighting an opponent in mind.”

“Oh,” Diarmuid blurts. “Some blackbelt lore. I swear I'm going to rival you someday!”

“You will get there,” he ruffles Diarmuid’s mane like an older brother, and... looks back at me. “I promised,” he says, taking off the hairclip I lent him. I-it really is intact. Ah, Ares... Ares!! I pinch his cheeks, slinging his arm around me to help him leave the arena. He wiggles, however. “I’m sweaty, you know...”

“Sssh. Shut up,” I playfully tick his lips. “Say something like a champion.”

“Hmmm. I’m so tired?” he chuckles a little bit.

“Then shut up and take my compliment like a champion,” I giggle along.

“... Perhaps that is a better idea indeed...”

I tilt my head because his answer is muffled and faint, and ... Altena is shouting beside me. Leif and Seliph crouch to peel Ares off the floor. What is happening, what is... oh, gods. Holy Chu-Chu rushes with a... stretcher? “What happened?” whispering, I look down, feeling so lost and alone in the middle of chaos like this. They are loading Ares into the stretcher. Altena unties his hair so he can lay down more comfortably. First-aid boxes are brought out and under the bright light I slowly start to understand what happens. Feeling a soft tugging on the sleeve, I look down—Ares winces, but that expression—

“... Lene, I...”

“Y-yes? How are you feeling?!”

“I'm not sure,“ he murmurs. “... But I cannot move.” 

* * *

 

I don’t know how many times I’ve been looking on my phone, but... yes, I’ve been looking on my phone. I feel so uneasy and whatever it is my lecturer is talking about right now truly, truly escapes me. I cannot stop thinking of yesterday... it was supposed to be a great Thursday, right? We made it to the finals anyway! And at what cost? Why is it everything always... I mean, for him...

... Ares cannot even celebrate being a step closer to victory. The mighty Black Knight was being carried out of the sports hall in a stretcher as his consciousness slipped away. I kept holding his hand when the medical team rushed to load him to an ambulance, but in-between the rush, I managed to catch what he whispered before they carried him away—

“I’m so tired...”

Seliph, Leif, and Altena loaded into the ambulance with Holy Chu-Chu. They turned me away because not only that there wouldn’t be any room for me to get in, technically I’m still... nobody. I mean—Seliph and Leif are the teammates. Altena _should_ be there as their spokesperson, and Holy Chu-Chu is a campus advisor; everything happened during the match should never escape his supervision. So I could only let them take Ares—at least Diarmuid and Patty seemed to understand what I was thinking because the former patted my shoulders to comfort me while the latter hugged me.

Ares is supposed to be the one that is in pain, but my chest just... just feels so knotted-tight that I nearly cannot breathe... it really, really pains me to see him like that... of course I’m aware that he is not invincible; after all he is a person, flesh and blood just like any other person out there. No matter how strong he is, there has to be a limit. Now that considering he always takes hit and does not complain, hearing him saying he was tired sent chill through my spine.

Diarmuid promised to contact me the moment they informed the family anything. The final match is supposed to be staged today—Friday, with the intention of having everything finished before the weekend since the exam week is drawing near too before summer break. But now that Ares is injured, they decided to postpone the final match for around three days to see if Ares could recover. If not, then Seliph and Leif would have to fight as a duo—that too if the committee even allowed since usually a group would be consisted of three people.

And morning came without any single text from Diarmuid. Around lunch break, however, my phone vibrated. There is no prelude or anything—Diarmuid simply sends me the name of the hospital and room number. That’s it! I really cannot concentrate in class. Why didn’t Diarmuid say anything else? Was it... that bad? Oh, Gods—really, I broke a bowl containing shaved ice Lana ordered because my mind was so full of Ares that I couldn’t even... think...

“Let’s not assume things,” Lana nods understandingly at me. “Perhaps Diarmuid was busy. Seliph also did not contact me and Leif was pretty burnt out—we all know yesterday was brutal.”

I need to be understanding, I suppose—so I change the conversation into asking how Seliph and Leif coped with everything. Thankfully, they are fine—Seliph recuperates at home. Leif spent a nice time for a long warm bath, but after napping a lot, turns out everything is fine for both of them that there isn’t really any change in their training regime. They choose to hone their stamina and reflexes in order to be able to withstand the fights and opponents—it would be tough, the duration would be longer... even if on paper it doesn’t sound much—three minutes—but now that I’ve seen everything, I realize how challenging everything is. N-no wonder people keep saying the Crusaders are formidable...

My face is sourer than yogurt by the time I finish with my last class. Five, huh? I have to be patient and wait until the evening visitation time comes! Usually hospitals allow longer visitation time in the evening compared to the morning, and I hope Ares is ‘just’ injured without anything else because... not only that he won’t be kept for too long there, the doctors might be more lenient with him as well.

I really rush to get home—cook dinner for Coirpre, and then rush back to see Ares. I guess my expression and appearance in general is akin to someone who stands under a waterfall—I’m so, so worried, and on top of that I’m trying to outrace time here. Wew, rush hour! It’s during times like this that I wish I could fly! ... Perhaps it’s not only Ares who feels burnt out.

At home, Coirpre does not say a _fig_ the moment he notices how dark my expression is. He eats anything I put on the table without protest even though it’s just another spicy fried rice with grilled sausages and fried eggs because I don’t have much time to prepare more complicated food—I’m racing with time. I need to get to the hospital before the patient visitation time is over. I already spent some time at the minimarket to grab frozen foods and a kilogram of oranges anyway, so...

“Coirpre, I don’t know what time I’ll get back,” I ruffle his mane, quickly grabbing my keys from the counter. The night somehow feels colder than usual that I tighten my cardigan around me. I haven’t even changed that I’m still wearing the same dress I wore to school today. “So lock the door and go to sleep without waiting for me, okay~?”

“You haven’t eaten,” he says.

“... Yeah,” I sheepishly nod. “There’s not enough time to spare, Coirpre.”

“Hnnn. But tell me Coach N’s condition tomorrow, okay?” he looks at me. “Promise?”

I say yes and open the door. To make things easier, I hail a taxi instead. I didn’t even read the address—I mean like, _contemplating_ it; they just... they just look like letters to me and I read them to the driver. He simply nods and I have to endure around fifteen to twenty-minutes of silence because even listening to some music doesn’t feel alright at the moment. I just want to see Ares—

... Ah, the taxi stops. The driver thanks me for the tip and I tighten my cardigan hugging my figure again, rushing to the hospital. The bright lights still do not make my mood feel lighter—I don’t like this place, more so when... when knowing Ares is here. My shoes make hasty steps and light noises to catch up to the elevator nearly closing itself before me, and now that I am so close to the room where he is treated, somehow I’m so nervous—no, _anxious,_ with a mixture of many other feelings...

... I forgot that elevator rides are short.

Joining other evening visitors I head toward his room. Knocking softly, I do not receive any answer, so I slowly slide into the room, preparing for an unexpected-anything. I just want to see Ares again. I just _need_ to see him. And I have to tell him how proud I am of him, winning or not...

“Excuse me,” I lower my voice. The room where they nurse him is not a first-class room, let alone a VIP one. There’s another bed separated with a curtain. Judging how it looks from where I stand, it seems the bed over there does have an occupant and is being tended by their family—there are movements and silhouettes behind the curtain. The counter beside the other bed is full of personal things as well!

But now...

... Ah, Ares is...

H-he is sleeping... he truly has fallen asleep! His expression is so free; so serene and peaceful that it reminds me of a nice calm afternoon of a childhood where everything is happy and that you are surrounded by all the things you love in this word—including the friends and families who love you. He is so calm and tranquil as if he is trying to regain all the night sleep he needed but lost. And he is completely alone here—perhaps Seliph and Leif haven’t come, or his family already left? R-regardless, yes, he is sleeping, reclining on his hospital bed with two pillows arranged from behind his waist to the head. He looks so cute, like a sleepy cat, but at the same time I feel some kind of... melancholy because... because he finally gets the peace he needs...

I do not want to leer at him, but somehow it’s just hard not to. N-no, it’s not about that innocent-yet-endearing his expression appears to be, or how clear his facial features are from here—I mean... I mean sure, he is _still_ handsome, anyway, but...

... But this setting and the situation invokes such a serene atmosphere about him. Looking even more I notice that while they did not put him in a hospital gown, his left arm is bandaged from the wrist to the upper elbow and the messy blanket covering his legs give me a glimpse of bandages too! Is he... is he still in pain? Why are they bandaging him like this? Is it so bad? Is it—...

A soft thudding sound catches my attention. I look around trying to locate where it came from—only to find that Ares is fast asleep that he hardly notices anything happening, including a falling book. Ah, so he fell asleep in the midst of reading! The book was semi-hidden under the blanket, and lost the balance since his fingers could no longer hold it given that he is in a deep sleep. Swaying to get to the bed side, I crouch down to pick it. Thankfully the book is not damaged or anything—he has slid a bookmark between the pages he is reading, so after picking it up I bring it back to the counter by his bed. Architecture book as well! H-he kills time by reading a textbook, pretty responsible, hnnn! Gods, there are only two of us here, s-so... is it okay if I take the chair beside the bed as well?

... He is supposed to be unwell, but sitting by his side while he is sleeping peacefully like this somehow brings me peace as well. Hmmm? Ah, he yawns softly! Such a big kitty. I really have to tone down my giggles otherwise I’ll wake him up. But now what should I do since he is sleeping? What if his doctor or nurses comes to check on him? I’m not even his parents, what should I tell them? Meanwhile of course I don’t want to interrupt him. So I simply tuck his hair strands behind his ears, tidying the rest by throwing them behind his shoulders. I move as gently as I can as not to wake him up. Ah, this should be enough! Now that his hair hair is neat, hopefully he can sleep even more comfortably. Now, the blanket—

I was just about to pull it up to cover him nicely when something tugs on me. Huh, it’s... ah, Ares’ hand gets caught up with mine. Is he awake?

“Ah...” he mutters, with that kind of rich and low tone again. Blinking, he lowers his gaze, finding that he has conveniently captured my wrist. “... Lene? Why...”

“Yes, Ares, it’s me! I come to see you,” I smile at him, patting his hand. “Did I surprise you?”

“... A little bit. I thought...” he replies awkwardly. “I’m sorry, that was out of reflex.”

Perhaps back then, people would .... So rather than discussing it, I simply touch his shoulder warmly. “It’s okay. Not everyday someone gets so burnt out like this. Especially you,” sparing him a comforting smile I  pull the blanket for him, gesturing at the plastic bag I put on the counter. “Got you fruits!”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have...” he scratches his head. “I can’t believe I got out in a stretcher. How path—“

“Sssh. Got you the sausages as well,” tapping his lips in a second, I wink at him. “And don’t worry about troubling me whatsoever. Think of them as a shared dinner with Coirpre’s! He’s going to be happy to hear you eat the same food. He wishes you to get well soon as well~!”

Slowly Ares’ tight expression loosens. He no longer frowns and finally I get to see that endearing small smile again. “Does he still call me his coach?”

“You know my brother,” I smile softly. “How are you? What did they say?”

“They did a number of x-ray on me,” he pauses before answering. “Thankfully, no fracture.”

“Thank God!” I cup my mouth out of reflex. “I saw all these bandages when I came, so...” I clutch on him by the bed side. “What... what actually happened, Ares? Are you truly alright? How are you feeling?”

“... I dislocated my ankle,” he closes his eyes, inhaling. “I already felt something might have been wrong during that semi-final placement round. I thought I merely twisted it after the takedowns I performed, so to reduce the strain I decided moving in linear, using the same left arm to block strikes.”

“Oh...” s-so that’s why! And despite knowing something didn’t feel right, he kept going...

“My dominant hand is the right one,” he winces when he moves to fix the pillows. Quickly, I get up from the chair and help him. “So it was rather awkward, but I did not want to sacrifice my dominant hand.”

“Was it because... because of the Yied guy?” I tug on his sleeve. “Diarmuid said he wanted to ruin you...”

“Hmm. Could be,” Ares replies with a straight face. “That hooked fist he did. I deflected it but it still felt like piercing into my skin. Seems like the powerful iron finger technique.”

“... And that did not disturb you?” I look at him—deeply. “Like—like Diarmuid said the Yied guy might want to play dirty with that lower kick opening he did.”

“Didn’t cross my mind at a second. Thought he just wanted to sweep my leg off the floor so I couldn’t kick him,” he shrugs. “Was it the case then? I don’t know. I don’t dwell in what-ifs.”

“But Ares...”

“... I expected it, if anything,” he ponders. “Not about how fair a fair fight should be. I simply thought that people might want to seriously hurt me either way, considering they don’t like me. I did a standing stretch thinking if I conserved, I might ease the strain. That time when I only stood at the corner until the referee warned me. But the pain was still there so I thought there had to be something more. I was thinking of pushing it back—suspected the knee, but apparently the ankle. And then—“

“H-hold on,” I stop him right away. “You wanted to _push back_ your dislocated ankle?!”

“I did my shoulder once that way.”

“But Ares!“

“Ah, it’s okay. It will hurt a little but better than nothing at all. Besides, back then when I still worked those nightly jobs I’d need to take care of myself. My dad’s military background served me the how-to knowledge well too,” he chuckles. “I suppose I couldn’t do that on the ring—there wouldn’t be enough time to recuperate since the match lasted only two minutes, anyway. Ah, this reminds me. Did I walk weirdly like a crab?”

“Ares—“

“Seliph was tired. He might not say it, but I know. After all he carried the team. Leif is good at close-quarter combat like all those locks and takedowns he did, but playing against that Yied guy would put him at a disadvantage. You cannot throw what you cannot grab,” Ares merely continues, oblivious to my shocked expression. “I’m taller than both of them. I have better range and I kick better than Leif. I mean—it’s only natural that I played the Yied guy,” he quickly added, scratching his head. “So...”

... So despite realizing that he was injured—no, suffering from a _dislocated_ ankle—he still fought. He still kept going even though nobody cheered for him. Even though people thought he was looking for a way to make things convenient for himself.  Even though when people thought he wanted to run away when he strategized how to keep fighting without straining his body more than already was. And even then, back then he would still... still took a time to look at me. To spare the same familiar comforting smile telling me that everything would be alright—that _he_ would be alright even though he was not. To make sure that I know he appreciated my effort. To still think of me including the way he kept my hairclip safe from vicious strikes like that. ... To bring my plushie gift without feeling ashamed that a karate champion took a _plushie_ to a training ground. Even then, he still did not claim his hard work for himself. He uplifted his teammates even though the audience was ready to discard him. He took hits, he said. And he did—

“... Lene?”

Uh oh, I cannot escape. His voice pleasantly grazes my ears and it is too late to hide my face. H-he bends down, trying to take a better look at me. H-he is still like that. He is still being Ares as usual. Even though technically he nearly combusted his own limbs to protect our school. To protect Seliph and Leif. And...

“Hnnn? Oh, n-nothing! Something got stuck in my eyes!” I tilt away from him...

... But he gently captures my chin. “How come it got stuck in your voice as well?”

“What do you mean, I don’t—ah!” I squeal out of reflex. H-he brings his index finger to wipe my eyes. Not wanting to be done quickly he keeps looking at me—rather in the manner of someone who pries, it is more like... like he wants to make sure that I am alright. Like he wants to check on me. “Ares, I...” yes, h-how could he still... right when he is supposed to be... the one who receives all the care now...

“... I got us to the finals not to make you cry, rabbit,” he whispers beside me. “So please. It’s alright.”

“But you...” words... fail me at the moment. My hands instinctively reach for his. Despite everything, he is still... h-how should I... make him know that I value him as well? That I care? That I—lo—

“They’ve fixed my ankle and treated my left arm so all is left would be me recuperating here,” he runs his fingertips in my hair. I don’t mind—it’s comforting and I don’t want him to move a lot... “When the doctor comes for a nightly check, they will see how I fare. If everything goes well, tonight I’ll wear simpler bandages. They also put cream on me so the bandage is mostly because of that. Eh—there’s vitamins and painkiller too, I suppose—I slept a lot like a lazy bastard, huh?” he chuckles lightly. “And I’ll train again at home. If I cannot kick, there _must_ be something I can do to compensate my ankle.”

“Still, though... e-eh...?” I look at him. He takes his hand off my hair, bringing it down to... cup my face. His fingertips gently brushes my jawline as they make a journey to wipe my eyes again...

“I will take care of myself, yes,” he says firmly, but the way he delivers it is... comforting. I wonder—firmness is supposed to be reliable. I never imagined that it could also feel... so... tender like this... “And that I promise you as well. Have I lied to you so far?”

Tongue-tied, I shake my head. Somehow words keep vanishing and I just want to bask in this feeling...

“So if I may have a request,” he chuckles again. “... Please don’t make that face.”

“I—I understand!” I clutch on his sleeve. “I uh—I won’t be sad so you can put your mind at ease. But!”

“Yes?” t-there again. That tender, tender softness deep in his eyes—

“Please be mindful of yourself too,” I pinch his nose. “Otherwise, I’ll be _so_ angry! Alright~?”

“... Ah,” he hums. “Very well, Miss. After all I said there is something I need to say after the match.”

“Now that is good~! Um—“

O-oh, gods, t-this is bad. Lately looking at him makes me shy. And even worse, touching him like this makes me shy and a bit—greedy. Like, I want to get close to him more. I want to feel his fingers intertwining with mine as well. A—and, and that face too, is s-so—close and I—

“Ares?”

W-wew?

The door swings open, revealing the Nordions plus Diarmuid walking in. Uh-oh, darn it, Diarmuid snickers like no other when he sees me holding hands with Ares!! The older lion has that _Look_ judging from the way he widens his eyes while his wife simply giggles cheerfully like she just found something so cute in the making! AAAAA—

R-regardless, his family is here! Diarmuid came because his band took his time longer at school while Ares’ father had to come home first to pick up his wife before visiting their cub. Since they are family, the hospital is pretty lenient letting them in, considering Ares’ condition is not that severe by medical standard as well. As horrible as it sounds, apparently dislocated joints like that—or even bones—are not a new case in the sports world! I—can’t believe I’m back again mingling wih the Nordions! Ares’ mother seems so happy to find me here, though—and today I learned that the older lion is a secret imp because he snatches one of the sausages I brought for Ares, earning the cub’s sullen look.

“... That was supposed to be mine, Dad.”

“Supposedly,” the older lion smirks, earning instant earlobe-pinching from the lioness. Despite Ares’ condition, the atmosphere is getting merry now that I chit-chat with the Nordions as well. They are so welcoming of me—or rather, that is the vibe I’m feeling judging from the way they unreservedly talk to me. Haha, are they acknowledging me as the member of the lion pack now? But I’m a rabbit~! None of them is interested in eating me~?

... I’m a big girl with a brain, I swear. S-sigh.

Well, the clock ticks and I need to go home. After making a playful glare at Ares because he better does as he promised—taking care of himself, I bade the Nordions good night. The older lion seems keen on staying in to wait on the cub, so Diarmuid takes the lioness downstairs to buy food for the older lion. Ah, it is good, then. This way Ares won’t be completely alone when the doctor returns later at night or in case he needs help to move. Come to think of it, I hope Mr. Nordion does feel much better as he said...

“Um...” I fidget before Ares—we are alone again since his father is in the bathroom.

“I understand,” he smiles. “Good night. Be careful on the way home.”

“Diarmuid talked about driving me home,” chuckling, I pat his hand. “He’s your reliable squire.”

“That is good, because he should be,” Ares grins. When I give him the Look, he quickly adds, gulping. “No. I’m not going to kick his ass. Or head. Or anything.”

“Alright. I am off~! Get well soon, Ares!” I pat his hand like patting a cat’s paw.

“... I can still lock wrists, rabbit,” Ares musters that meaningful leonine smirk again as his voice drops.

This time I’m not running. He thinks he is the only one who can take hits?! Haha, he will learn something today! Who does he think he is? It’s just a (cute) cat who happens to have a black belt in karate. S-sigh. With a quick glance, I turn around. Aha, Mr. N is still in the bathroom. The other patient is sleeping and his family just left, around the same time when Diarmuid took Mrs. Nordion to buy food! Here goooes then!

“Yes, and then what~?” I wink at him, leaning down, and...

“... Ah...”

“Good night, meow!” I—I pinch his cheeks with both of my hands. H-he is stunned. And actually, so am I. He flusters and I’m pretty sure my face is just as equally red! I nod when Mr. Nordion comes back from the bathroom. In a fatherly manner he says Diarmuid is at the lobby with his wife and that he can just take me home without having to go upstairs to talk to him beforehand. I thank him. Grinning widely at the corridor as I rush to get to the elevator, my feelings soar that I want to giggle—

... I—I just kissed Ares on the forehead...

* * *

 

Days pass whether we like it or not. Sometimes Ares sends me a photo via Instagram, showing me that he is indeed, recuperating. He says they did change his bandage to a simpler one the night I visited, and that what he suffered is not actually that painful because, in his own words, he “had worse.” I’m not sure whether I should be happy or displeased to hear that, anyway—what is this worse thing he experienced? For God’s sake, he dislocated an ankle and that left arm is basically beaten.

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _Haha I’ve had a machete wound of seven centimeters that they stitched me when I was still with Javarro. Tried traditional tameshiwari and broke a finger. Also one day some guy made me kiss the concrete._

Oh—gods. And I’m supposed to be happy hearing that?

 **_anblacknight  
_ ** _… I hope none of those things I mentioned ever happens to you._

Sh—shit. Forget happiness—again, I’m blushing…

On a Saturday, I take Coirpre to visit Ares! I would just do a couple of things at school first, like getting my dance props of a scarf and paired long ribbons which I left after my own class staged a joint practice with Iuchar’s theater crew. Unexpected to me, our campus is pretty lively as well! I found Ulster and Patty practicing for their band. Seliph still has his shift at Tirnanog, so I thought it would be a nice idea to take Coirpre there to feed him before we get to see Ares.

My friends welcome me warmly. I’m so glad that they don’t make me feel so awkward or out of place because Coirpre is with me! They ask him questions like they truly mean it, and we talk about Ares while we eat. Patty says that Arthur has been working hard, running around here and there. When I want to ask her what that even means, she smiles and points at the new poster plastered over the wall!

_SUPPORT THE CRUSADERS—DONATE TO YOUR LOCAL BLACK KNIGHT_

“He got it hard,” Seliph sways back, bringing the smoothie Coirpre ordered. “So why not giving back?”

W-wew…

Arthur comes in running with Fee’s hand in his. After ordering some food at the counter, Fee is more than glad to steal my unoccupied chairs! “Heya, little champ. Lene’s bodyguard for the day?”

“Don’t even suggest it,” playfully, I ruffle Coirpre’s mane that he grunts. “So, about the poster…”

“Oh yeah,” Arthur puts down his fork, stopping himself from biting into the fried egg he ordered. “I did that. Seliph is setting his own bank account to receive the donation. We want to cover his medical expenses. Not sure how much it will be, but I don’t think anyone would dislike having their hospital bills paid.” Only then he pauses, contemplating his own food. “… He wouldn’t mind, would he?”

“Admittedly, your lion is rather…” Fee pokes her food. “What if he hates it?”

“I’m not Ares. I cannot say,” I mumble gloomily as well. “But to think that this will help his parents, don’t you think he will appreciate it? People were so mean to him and I wish…”

Arthur taps my hand from over the table. “Not anymore. People’s interest is high, actually. A dollar from one person makes a nice deal if there are hundreds willing to spare theirs, no?” he grins. “Besides, with the final match being postponed until Monday technically everyone would want to know what happens.”

“And he, with the power of the bulletin…” Fee slides her body between Arthur’s arms. “I love you, Poop.”

“I thought journalists are supposed to be neutral, you know,” I whisper to Arthur. I can’t believe this is happening… people are no longer despising the Black Knight! They want to help! Oh, gods—

“Yeah, sure,” Arthur grins even wider. “But you know what we are supposed to do? Shedding light when we know something bad happens somewhere. Just think of this as an apology note from us all, Lene.”

“Speaking of which,” Seliph sets a glass of lemon tea before Fee whilst looking on his phone. “… Someone donated two thousand.”

“What?” we nearly yell at him. Two thousand from a single person! H-how could…

“Perhaps Julius,” he winces a little. “… Please don’t ask.”

Amazed or not, finally we bide goodbye with Arthur and Fee! Coirpre is more than chirpier when we finally get to be in the hospital that I need to smack him a little bit. T-this is not a picnic, but he is just too happy to see Ares again… sigh. Proudly he says he is twelve and a couple of months older when a nurse says children under twelve isn’t supposed to be there. And finally—finally we get inside. Ah, to see Ares again. A-after yesterday when I—

… To quote Seliph, though, please don’t ask.

I get in with Coirpre’s hand is mine. It should not surprise me, but still—I found Ares and his father standing by the bed, holding a target practice similar to the one I saw being sold in Miletos when we took the kids. H-he is still in bed but already practicing some punches …. Upon seeing me, however, he stops, scratching his head—perhaps because literally my mouth is open like I just found out cats can morph into a cucumber. Before I get to say anything, Coirpre seizes a chance.

“Coach N!” without any hesitation he flies into Ares’ arms, hugging him. “How are you?”

“Be careful, Coirpre, he is injured!” I quickly pull him back, feeling like wanting to bow at his father over there. “Uh-oh. S-sorry, Mr. N—and hello.”

“Better,” Ares simply says, pulling his sleeve to reveal that only his upper arm that is bandaged now compared to yesterday. “But I cannot slack around and sleep like a princess.”

“It’s okay, you will never be a princess anyway,” I stick my tongue at him.

“I’m not taking your job,” he counters. “What?” he quirks an eyebrow when I pull his mullet.

Our chit-chat is interrupted by a figure coming inside the room—an orange-blond haired woman with a white blazer and stethoscope hanging on her ears. Oh, the doctor! The stand-by doctor of the day is visiting to check on Ares, but the moment I saw her name tag, I really want to widen my eyes! Edain Jungby—Lana’s mother! Good God, I thought it was already embarrassing enough now that nearly everyone around my circle knows I’m close with Ares. Of course she knows me because I’m close with Lana too! I’m thankful for professionalism, however, because she just smiles and does not bat an eye or anything. Ares, on the other hand, appears sheepish because Doctor Jungby caught him in the middle of trying punches like that! “What is this?” she asks.

“Punches,” Ares blurts innocently. “I mean—karate.”

“Ah. So you got this out of doing karate?” she looks down, pulling the blanket to check on Ares’ ankle.

“Well…” Ares scratches his head.

“… Hmmm. I don’t normally do this, but…” she pats the messed up limbs. “Can you get up and try a kick because I want to see if your ankle recovers or not. This way we can also assess whether standing on your own foot still gives you pain.”

Ares is too happy to oblige!

After the visitation, Coirpre and I walk around the blocks so we can catch a bus. Coirpre mumbles a thing or two about chicken tenders for dinner, and I’m happily greenlighting his demand because I still need to study and again—reading Holy Chu-Chu’s book without worrying about dinner! So I simply take him to the diner we just saw. And wew, I’m happy we listened to our gut feeling today. Turns out we are both pretty tired when we get home—Coirpre still has homework to do and I need to rearrange my closet now that I got my dancing property back! Things simply fall out of the closet the moment I open it because… y-yeah, I did not expect it’s pretty crowded inside. I should have remembered that with the latest endorsement and the freebies I got sent to, my clothing colony is growing…

In the midst of arranging everything back inside, I found… something.  A fluffy ball of pink yarn, leftover from my old winter scarf when I knitted it! Somehow the calendar on my desk gives me idea—I’m already busy as it is, but… but now that this is in my hand…

… Let’s just say I clutch that yarn ball tightly against my chest.

Finally, Monday comes in no time! The previously universally-despised day roughly slaps me across the face that I cannot not pay attention that the day has changed! I did not hear anything from Ares on Sunday. At first I was thinking I was too tired that I missed my phone, but there’s no news from him whatsoever that I can only hope this means he is also recuperating! I really was too tired for anything else, but there is this small smirk proudly emerges on my lips when I look at _something_ perching on my bed counter. I load it into my bag just like the rest of my things and head to school.

… I’m nervous… more than that, I’m also anxious. This is supposed to be the finals… will Ares show up? If he does not, then the opposing group will be automatically declared the winner. But if he is to fight under the condition he is now, facing the toughest fighters around here…

 _I am proud of you no matter what happens,_ I type rapidly on my phone. People have been crowding corridors yet again, but this time, admittedly the aura is a bit different. There’s enthusiasm, and even… warmth. People bring properties to the sports hall—like all the small trumpets for cheering and everything. Looking at the business unfolding before me, my eyes start to get watery. They finally accept him. T-they finally…

My eyes park themselves on one of the posters near the Jugdral-U’s bulletin’s headquarter. Oh, there’s report of the amount of donation received and even names of whom giving what. There are people who donated and prefer their names to be kept secret as well! Arthur works efficiently fast too, and imagining Seliph still doing this for Ares despite his own business preparing the match really makes me want to tear up. Please, let his name be known through all of Jugdral-U and beyond—it is Ares Hezul Nordion like it has always been, not Black Knight harbinger of such and such whatsoever. Please…

_I will make myself worthy of such concern._

Ah, Ares…

 _Win or lose it won’t change my perception of you, so please take care of yourself, alright?_ —I quickly type back. He needs to know that there is something… something more important than just… just what he can bring into the table. That at least someone here wants to see him all well and nice again regardless he wins or not. … And I hope even though I’m alone, it is enough…

_I promised you so I will._

I pocket back my phone with so many feelings clouding inside my chest.

A group of people stand at the end of the corridor. The sunlight from outside gives such spectacular effect making them appear ethereal—especially with such enthusiastic smiles crowning their faces. My friends! My friends are all here! Lana, Fee, and Larcei! Patty hops to wave at me while Diarmuid patiently waits on me. Arthur is not with them—perhaps he has gone to do his duty as always. But there’s… there’s Iuchar. Iuchar, our very own theater guy who speaks in a flowery manner and commonly detests sports! As if understanding what I want to ask, however, he simply smiles…

“Being there for a friend doesn’t always mean sharing the same interest, no?”

“Come on,” Diarmuid smiles gently as well. “I bet you are the audience Ares expects the most.”

We make our little journey to the sports hall, again, finding the front row being vacant with Julius and Ishtar occupying their seats like the other day. Ishtar musters a small smile while Julius, totally awkward to the hair and back, pouts. “I just…” he says sullenly. “Darn it, I didn’t actually want to support Seliph!”

“It’s alright,” Ishtar kindly squeezes his hand. “The first steps are always the hardest.”

I take my seat between Larcei and Diarmuid, clutching my bag. Somehow this bag feels fuller and heavier than always. The _something_ inside may cause it, but…

The hosts begin to open the event with the similar manner like I witnessed prior—rereading the rules, except it is three-minute match this time since this is finals. I do not even pay attention when they start introducing the opponents—the schools and everything, even their track records. At this rate, I wonder, does it even matter? Ah, I just want everything to end quickly, and if I may pray… with our victory!

Spectators cheer loudly the moment they see Seliph getting inside the arena. Nanna clasps her hands together when Leif tails behind Seliph, but Ares... there’s silence when he arrives because he uses a crutch to get by. Altena is beside him to help him walking, and the situation becomes awkward again. Uh-oh. No. N-nooo. And Ares is…

I look at him. It’s almost like my wish transcends at him because that moment he is also searching for my presence in the midst of these spectators. He gives me a resolved smile—those eyes are fiercer than a lion’s heading off to war, to protect his territory and his pack from threat. But his leg…

“We’ll work hard so you will only need one ippon to complete everything,” Leif reassures him.

“Right. I will protect everyone,” Seliph pats Ares in the shoulder, to which the latter sheepishly grunts.

… It begins. The final round! Seliph appears so prime like there is a stove being lighted inside of him. It’s like I’m watching a _dragon_ wrecking havoc in the arena—his moves are so powerful; there is nothing wasted so far that even Lana clutches on me. W-we are in disbelief that this is the same Seliph we know. His opponent tries to push punches and kicks to score, but with simple moves which don’t even make him look like breaking a sweat he keeps blocking and blocking with similar moves he executed when he fought Ares. Everyone gasps when Seliph unbalances his opponent with the same inasu like he did when fighting Ares, only to follow it with a vicious kick against the chest. His opponent coughs and tries to salvage the stance while the referee starts counting… but the moment his opponent is eager to fight again, Seliph simply deflects an incoming blow and hammers his fist against the opponent’s back. He follows it with another kick, scoring a vicious ippon no less! The hall erupts—half-shocked, half-cheering because the Seliph we know just turned into a… ahem, semi-bloodthirsty fighter.

Leif goes next. He is probably the shortest person in the group so his opponent seems wanting to take advantage of it too—cornering him, limiting his movement to the point of making him unable to walk freely! People are shouting his name, worried to the hell and back since the opponent keeps pushing him to take him out of the arena. “Leif, you need to…” Seliph is about to shout but quickly silences himself then, not wanting to give a chance for the judges to count that one as coaching! Leif, however, looks so _pissed_ as if this is three Kempfs  he is currently fighting! He pushes back. The opponent is bigger and taller than him, but Leif’s spirit is peerless.

“Withdrawing? No way. I’m not running any longer—“ he mutters, suddenly catching his opponent by the belt. With a sharp turn he takes his opponent with him, throwing him _outside_ of the arena! That moves literally silences the audience—including Ares who gapes at him. “… Cousin,” Leif continues, wiping his nose while smirking at Seliph. “Now now, where is that Kempf guy…”

Ares snorts hard when he hears a faint gulp in the middle of a silent audience. Needless to say, it seems to be the strategy the boys are playing—finishing the fight as soon as possible when given the chance. R-right, prolonging it doesn’t do justice for anyone; if anything they are risking to be drained like yesterday, and it seems Seliph is more than eager to not give the opponents a chance to even _try._ … I get it now. S-so this is why they are known as the crusaders… not only they protect each other, they are also a beast when they decide to come down for a serious fight. T-that prowess, such speed, but also… kindness.

… The hosts call. And Ares fixes his ponytail, giving the crutch to Altena. He wears bandanna this time to stop his fringes from getting in the way. S-so serious that he is, but is he… truly alright?

He warms up. And I can see it—he still winces. The opponent smirks at him…

“If it is a defanged lion, shouldn’t be hard,” he says.

“If,” Ares simply makes a stance. W-wew?

They fight! Oooh gods—they do fight. The opponent seems to be more than happy to launch middle kicks like he is trying to weave Ares into some one-on-one duel of a kick versus a kick. I’m so tensed in my chair—even Diarmuid keeps his mouth shut the entire fight because he cannot predict anything! “Mawashi… uke, isn’t it?” Diarmuid mumbles. We are watching Ares moving his palms in a circular manner, blocking the kick. I don’t know if it’s visible, but to me, it is—he is still not in his prime, and he moves rather carefully as if knowing well if he persists then he will make it worse for the ankle. “Only sensible if he withdraws after this—“ Diarmuid tries explaining, but suddenly, he shouts. “Waaaah!”

I look at the arena. Ares did block the kick, but instead of withdrawing like Diarmuid said, he expands the circular blocking to trap his opponent’s move, forcing the latter to swing with his rhythm… right? D-don’t ask me, I’m a dancer. Sigh. But really. Diarmuid mumbles a thing or two about unsu to me—bridging hands, he says, a powerful kata practiced by senior students. It traps. And it also protects. Deflecting a blow suddenly he crouches to bring himself down, landing a kick from just above the mattress. That kick lands against the opponent’s shin, who immediately loses his balances and tumble backwards. R-right. Perhaps it’s actually safe—if he cannot bring his ankle to kick, then his body should... adapt instead. We think he will stand up to conserve his energy or something, but… no. Ares springs like a pouncing lion, landing a scissor kick with the left leg instead of the right one…

“H-he did it!” Diarmuid squeezes me. The audience erupts, shouting his name and _Oooooh_ in between. That vicious kick got his opponent by the nape, sending him out of the arena right away! In disbelief he quickly springs back into action, but tumbles regardless… the referee counts and counts… perhaps Ares wanted to strike that part knowing well it would disrupt the opponent as a whole. In the midst of shouting audience, Ares deflects another blow before delivering another kick he is known all along—straight to the chest, flooring the opponent at an instant.

The match stops. The boys are told to wait while the judges count score. I can’t believe it—he finishes the match… he is not running away from opponents in the slightest and he did keep his promise to not overdo it. Whatever it is that an unsu is, that was still clever…

“N-now we pray,” Nanna whispers. “Please, let Leif win. Please…”

I have a similar wish. People are fidgeting and being restless in their seats—some excuse themselves for bathroom break while the others do not want to leave fearing they might missed anything important. The boys bundle outside of the arena, having a drink—while Holy Chu-Chu rushes with the medics to get to Ares and checks on his ankle. T-this is my chance. The _something_ inside my bag—

I slide into the changing room. Ah, the boys’ things are all here! I immediately recognize Ares’ black backpack so I quickly take that _thing_ out of my bag and places it on top of his bag. No, I’m not opening anything or peeking into anything that is not mine. Evading officials coming back and forth I make a beeline here and there, to find my friends… gone? Y-yeah, they are no longer at their seats! People cheer and yell while the judges look like they are packing their things as officials clear the arena. W-wew, I missed anything? What about the results? What…

“H-how was it?” I grab a random student who passes me by.

“Huh? Well…” he simply makes a gesture with his hand, and I follow suit. T-that’s… that’s our boys! Leif and Seliph are being paraded around the hall. People shout again… calling them…

“Champion! Champion! Champion!!”

… Champion?

D-did we win? Did we…

From the corner of my eyes, I can see Ares standing awkwardly while people approach him. He is back with a crutch, and people… people are shaking his hands, complimenting him. I expect them to tell him how strong he is a always, but this time it’s not the time for that because they praise how responsible he is of the entire team. How hard he worked so he could play. Ares has that innocent surprised expression again because apparently he has no idea at all that Arthur has been setting  donation fund for him. People are now crowding him like a hero; asking about his ankle and everything, and I just…

… I’m so overwhelmed. Finally Ares gets the hero treatment he deserves. He cranes his neck back and forth, and the moment those eyes meet mine, I smile at him, waving, gesturing at his adoring crowd because as a champion and one of the crusaders he has every right to celebrate with him.

Ah, it’s finally over! I wonder if I can check on Ares once they are done giving him a victory feast like that?  Perhaps I should ask Altena—so with that in mind, I race to the changing room again, just behind the arena where the boys previously bundled. I was here prior and not seeing anyone, but I figured either Altena or Holy Chu-Chu would be here because these props need to be returned… right? And it’s risky leaving your things unattended!

There is nobody here as well, hnnn! The room is still quiet like I left it, and the boys’ things are still there untouched. I take a seat, trying to process this _magnanimous_ feeling blooming in my chest. F-first thing first—we won! W-we won… so all these hard work our boys did are not fruitless. And then Ares... Ares gets to fight in the ring and retaining his title. And better than that, he now gets the champion treatment that is rightfully his all along. That alone already makes me feel so, so happy. It does not matter even though I am not there to celebrate it with him—this is his time and…

… I can hear the door opening behind me. Quickly, I make a swift wiping motion over my eyes, ready to apologize for trespassing. S-supporting dancer is not a champion… “Ah, sorry! I was just…” my voice dies upon finding the person who stands before me right now. It is… him. Ares stands before me, tall and proud as always. G-gods, why do I feel like… crying?

“I thought I’d find you here,” he says, approaching me.

“O-oh. Were you looking for me?” I need to keep my voice as cheerful as always. He shouldn’t know that—that I’m so, so relieved and sad at the same time. I mean—I’m so glad we win, but somehow… somehow the same feeling returns. That he is _the_ champion, the crusader Jugdral-U needs. And I just—

He does not say anything but digging into his pocket, regardless. He has not even changed—he is still in karate gear, only the difference is that there is a medal dangling on his neck. I imagine Seliph and Leif, too …. But to my surprise, the something he takes out of his pocket turns out to be… his phone. And…

My hand reflexively flies against my mouth. Y-yeah, I crocheted a little lion with the leftover pink yarn I drew when rearranging my closet. I thought he wouldn’t know. I thought—but… but now that one… his phone… “I did not open your bag,” I whisper sheepishly, unable to look at him. “And uh—c-congrats! You are a champion again~! How does it feel? Um, is your ankle…”

“… Why are you running away?” he cuts me in. “Why… Maria?”

I stop talking when he calls me like that. C-can it be that he is making _The Sound of Music_ reference? “I—don’t know. I thought they needed you—“ I want to escape those eyes… but at the same time I cannot… and now I wonder if I ever, ever, truly would… “I’m—no Maria. She’s a governess, duh, I’m just a dancer.”

“And I’m no von Trapp. Just a—“ he says. Out of reflex my index finger taps his lips again. Please, do not self-deprecate like this. Please, don’t—“… Just someone who needs to talk to his supporting dancer.”

“Ah… y-yes, back then you said you wanted to say something…”

“I don’t know how I should say this,” he exhales before chuckling a little bit. “… I like you.”

H-huh? “Ares, w-what…”

“I’m truly as articulate as a brick,” he scratches his head. “I like you. So much that my chest hurts.”

“Eeeh?”

“No, let me try again—“ he sighs, slapping his own forehead. “… Would you be by my side from now on?”

“Ares, h-hold on—“

“… I am done running away…” suddenly he lifts the phone with my little crocheted lion dangling as a keychain. “And with it, I realize how bright the days are when you are there. There is something—something selfish budding in my chest…” he walks to approach me. “If I could have the privilege to call this precious rabbit mine. If I could be so brazen by telling you that I’m yearning for you—“

“… Ares?”

“… If I could even dare to confess that I have fallen in love with you, Lene.”

H-he… what? “D-do not joke like that! I won’t forgive you!!” I shouldn’t be shouting, b-but now…

He exhales. And I’m just—just overwhelmed with many things now. D-does he know how many nights I spent with that same… protruding spike in my chest? H-hoping that he would feel something about me? Praying that I’m not the only one in this boat because—because my chest feels so heavy just imagining it? Wishing that I’m not too late or too selfish to have something nice on my own? Because… because everyone left but he… no, but him. And if he said this just because he was in a victory euphoria, I…

“I suck at Human,” he grins… kissing the little crocheted lion dangling on his phone. “So…”

I—

I wish I could say something—something _cute_ , b-but—

“Ares,” … But that’s what I’m doing, whispering his name again and again. “Ares. Ares. I—you’re slow.”

… I’m not cute at all…

“… Then please forgive me,” he returns his phone back into his pocket… to draw me into his arms. “It’s not like everyday the law of nature is breached by having a lion _helplessly_ fall in love with a rabbit.”

“I—suppose,” sniffing, I bury my face against his chest. “I like you a lot. A LOT. But my, you are so dumb.”

“Then allow me not to be,” he whispers, gently running his thumb over my cheek. S-so soft. Just as always when he touches me. Nobody would know that this is the feared Black Knight they talk about. It’s just… Ares. _My_ Ares—my Ares leans in. Closer, closer… until I cannot tell which one is his face and which one is mine. His hand cups my face, and—“… May I…?”

“S-slow.”

“Procedure, Miss,” he chuckles. “Ah, I'm fond of this cute rabbit.”

"Fond?"

He looks at me, surprised. I—I darted a quick peck over his lips, pouting as if I’m fuming mad. But that very moment he embraces me. His arms are around me, and this time he does not let go. Slowly his lips dive down to look for mine… and everything feels rather hazy after. T-this is supposed to be afternoon, right? Then why am I seeing stars? Stars so bright everywhere around me, b-but none is as bright as his smile or presence as a whole now. I—wonder. Can this happen? It’s almost like deep down we know that this is so right—as if we have been yearning for each other’s presence without even us knowing about it. Then… then why is it that his lips just feel… so right… over mine? It’s almost like we are a matching products meant to suit each other by design; his chest enveloping mine feels so fitting as if it is the home I’ve been looking for all along. … Perhaps it is. Perhaps…

"Perhaps much more than that indeed," he sighs, breaking away from me, panting a little bit because the kiss—the kiss is so soft and taking all the time in the entire world that we take some time to catch a breath. There is only a serene, serene pond in those normally ferocious eyes when he looks at me, and I’m not sure if I still look like me and not a rabbit getting tongue-tied because a lion demon just marked my lips. He smiles. His eyes shine. And I touch him. This feels so real; he is there, he is not going anywhere…

“Ares, how come you ran away—“ the sound of the door opening startles us. Altena rushes in with Seliph and Leif in tow. The three of them pause upon seeing us, and Ares simply chuckles while I contemplate of smacking him—or Altena first.

“Something is overdue,” he responds.

“… N-not anymore,” I pinch his ribs. He looks down…

“Yes. Not anymore.”

Ignoring everyone else, he pulls me in into his embrace—again. And I let him. I am home. I finally am.

* * *

 

I tilt my laptop to the sides, testing my web camera in the process. Oh, good! Everything looks so good because based on what I saw, the camera perfectly captures the view of my room just the way I like it—highlighting the pretty parts like my small trinket drawers and hiding other parts I do not want to be broadcast to the entire world like the bed or my closet. “Test,” I speak into my mic, replaying the clip just to see if everything is fine. And it is! Ah, my voice sounds clear and the video is not that beyond-saving blurry I cannot edit for the better. Coirpre quickly leaves my room, understanding that I’m going to make a video the way he voluntarily takes himself off the scene when my phone begins a guerrilla each time I’m thinking of posting something on Instagram.

“Hello, folks~! It’s your girl Lene as always,” I speak again, facing my web camera. “Lately there is this trend of paired make-up! Since everyone is doing this, today I’m going to try to do it~! Our topic of the day is summer blaze. We’ll get you colors suitable for the season. May all of you have a blast as well!”

I drag my beauty case near me. Hearing a knock, I hit the pause button right away.

“Come in~!”

A familiar figure I’ve grown to love so much appears by the doorway, smiling at me. “Recording?”

“Perfect timing,” I take his hand, seating him before the laptop. He has that curious innocent look as always, glancing at my beauty case. As always, however, he never turns me down. “We are doing this.”

“… Seriously?” he grumbles. Awh, he is so cute when he is disgruntled like that, hehee! … I swear I’m not sadistic…

“Yes! It will be over in no time. So sit down, sit down!” I gently presses his shoulders. The supposed gesture only tickles me to do more, so I run my fingers over them, massaging him. “How was the test?”

“Oh. Right,” as if remembering something important he digs into his backpack. Still black as always. And he dresses in a black tanktop too. I don’t mind. I love him so much that I won’t even care if he suddenly appears at the door wearing an anime girl pink wig. … Hnnn, perhaps I should suggest that to him?

W-well, jokes aside, he puts something over my hand. I’m just looking down to read what is there when I feel something encircling my waist, so again I look down to find a black belt on me. “Ah, this…”

“Passed,” he grins, pointing at the card. “I’m a third-degree blackbelt now.”

“Awww!” I _jump_ into his arms. The card also says that—apparently it is indeed a rank promotion note, recording the time and date of where the grading takes place. It’s all there, from the first black belt to now. I’m so happy! So, so happy… “Stay until dinner,” I murmur into his ears.

“This is weird,” he hugs back, chuckling a little. “I wanted to take you out to eat something nice.”

“I hijacked the plan?” I tick his nose.

“My pleasure, though,” he caresses my face. “This thing is still on?”

“Yeah?” giggling, I tilt him so that he faces the camera again. “You are still not fluent in Human…”

“I can catch up with a good teacher,” he mutters simply.

“Speaking of catching up, should have gotten you another chair, huh,” I clasp my chin. “Wait a moment?”

“No,” he draws me in. “I miss my rabbit.”

“But the chair is too small…”

“I have legs,” he gently seats me over his left leg.

“We really need to brush your skill in Human,” I pull his hair.

“Teach me then,” he chuckles. His voice is deep as he looks at me, but I cheekily hits record again.

“It’s on.”

“Hmmm.”

“Sooo, sorry to keep you waiting~!” I speak at the camera again. “This is our victim of the day, none other than… excuse me, what is your name again?”

“Those viewers aren’t you, so is it important?” he flashes his trademark leonine smirk at me again.

“Alright then, we begin,” I gently yank his mullet. He is not protesting at all the moment I apply a primer on him, like he is under this test from God or something and all he needs to do is enduring everything. Awh, such a cute cub~! Who would have thought the mighty Black Knight will just do whatever I command him like this? Heheee. So I put everything on him—the foundation, the BB cream, the color-corrector, even under-eye cream which I conveniently roll over his eyes.

“Girls do this everyday?” he asks when I pat his cheeks with a puff and smoothen everything with my cute pink beauty blender. “My sympathy. Must be a hard life to lead.”

“Respect Women juice is at it again,” chuckling, I take a lip liner from the case. “Now stay still…”

“Hmmm. They still don’t have that juice brand,” he blurts innocently. “Where did you get it? Abroad?”

“I’m glad you are still dumb,” I tick his nose. “Now I know this is truly my lion.”

“… As if I’ll let another uninvited one in,” he flashes another smirk. Haha, did that trigger the Lion in the lion? Regardless, the banters aside, it does not take a long time for me to finish my so-called summer setup on him. My boyfriend is now looking so cute and dazzling with sky blue eyeshadow, soft coral pink lipstick with glittery bronze highlighter on his cheeks! Heeeheee, a success! I spare some other words, like if you think the color does not suit you, it should be okay to replace because blue eyeshadow is rather tricky! It is either going to work wonder on you or gloriously ruin you like you are some NPC who got beaten up in an action movie.

“Let us see our artwork,” I tilt his face at the camera. “How are you feeling?”

“… Scared.”

“Theeen it is a success!” chuckling, I make a V sign. “Before we clean this off you, you should take turn to do my face! See, it is this paired make-up challenge, anyway~ so the boyfriend must draw me back.”

“I cannot draw,” he says.

“You are an architect,” I nudge him.

“… Alright then. Anything to keep the lady happy,” he takes my hand back, and…

“Ah—Ares!”

“… Yeah?”

“Y-you just kissed me!”

“Mm-hmm, I did. And?”

“B-but, the challenge!”

“I pressed my face against that lovely one of yours, don’t you think you are wearing me too now?” he smirks. “… The recording is still on?”

“V-very much so, dear gods,” I hit stop. I suppose the best decoration is smile and the best incentive for that one is… love then. “Come on, come on~ let’s spoil you rotten today, Nordion-sensei.”

“Do not call me that, rabbit.”

“Let’s spoil you rotten today, boyfriend.”

“I won’t be so merciful next time, you know?” he sighs, but mustering a gentle smile anyway.

“I know you will, cute boyfriend,” I keep taking my revenge. Nudging him by the ribs I show my phone to him, giggling regardless. “Wow, there’s already two hundred likes in such a short time. Haha, some people do ask for your name again…”

“There is no need,” he cheekily kisses my hair.

“But you have a name,” I poke him.

“Then tell them it’s Unavailable,” he simply shrugs.

“Ares~!” How dare he to be so cute and loving?

“Or Lene’s boyfriend. Your choice?” he quirks an eyebrow. I laugh along with him, taking him out of the room where Coirpre grins  like no other. My little brother poses like a good boy sitting at the our diner table, looking at Ares with such starry eyes like that.

“I heard,” he singsongs. “You have become stronger.”

“Not really,” Ares smiles kindly, grabbing an apple and bite into it.

“Why is my sister wearing your karate belt?” Coirpre chirps, taking the apple when Ares cuts it for him.

“Because she is stronger,” Ares calmly finishes his share with the apple and rubs his hand over his jeans.

“What should we have today…” mumbling, I begin to inspect my kitchen. “What do you want?”

“Chicken curry again!” Coirpre shouts from the table.

“I’m asking Ares!”

“Meanie,” Coirpre sticks his tongue at me.

“You,” Ares replies with a straight face. “And chicken curry.”

“… I’ll get you for that,” I flex my muscles at him. Hnnn, doesn’t sound too bad, however. After all, there is a story behind the chicken curry—it’s when Coirpre gained his spirit back and when Ares for the first time truly spent some time in my house. Right, now that he got his third dan, why don’t we revisit the memory again? And Coirpre is eating with us too—I cannot ask for anything better…

“Oh, doorbell?” Coirpre stands up. “I’ll get it, Sis! You just exchange germs with Coach N!”

“It is Ares.”

“Big Bro.”

“Coirpre…”

“Lene’s boyfriend,” Coirpre quickly mutters before flying to get the door. Ares simply chuckles, however, taking himself from the chair and walks up to approach me in the kitchen.

“I’ll help.”

“But you are the one being celebrated.”

“Exactly why.”

“But I’m used to cooking?”

“Also exactly why.”

“You just never give up, hnnn?” I pinch his nose.

“No,” he replies for the sake of replying, taking a pot from the wall. “Do order me around…” giggling, I’m just about to respond when I hear Coirpre shouting _AAAAAAAHHHH_ from the front door. T-that truly sends alarm into every part of me! Quickly, I exchange wary look with Ares, who also shifts into a battle mode without being asked. “Stay here.”

“Be careful,” I whisper.

“Sure,” he smiles before moving. “… Girlfriend.”

I pinch his ribs.

The moment he is out, however, I take a heavy vase from the corner of the house to follow him. T-this is scary, but how about Coirpre? Sigh, why is the sound of war drums following Ares wherever he goes? We were so at peace prior…

“Hello!” a cheery voice startles me, stopping Ares who awkwardly looks back in confusion. Coirpre is in her arms, eyes red and puffy, sobbing hard into her embrace. I walk closer. Huh…

“Mom? Dad?” Ares scratches his head. “And this…”

“I forgot the way here. Meeting this kind couple who showed me the address and even offered a lift,” the woman who has Coirpre says. “And may I know why you are in my child’s house?”

“Oh, that is our son,” Mr. Nordion says calmly. “And may I know why is it that you…”

“M-Mom,” my lips tremble so hard that I don’t know what to do. I can’t believe it—those rolled twintails, the smile… t-the… and that suitcase…

“We need to catch up, sure,” she whispers. “But I heard there is a Bragi who will moderate the talkshow I’m invited to, so—“ wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she looks at me. “I am home. And I’m terribly sorry.”

“M-Mom,” Coirpre sobs. “You really should tell us what happened.”

“I do plan to…” the figure before me speaks again.

“I was just—about to make dinner,” sadness gags my throat that I don’t recall how I can even push words out. “Finally. Finally the guest room is no longer empty. I have… every day since you left, I…”

“Darling,” she pulls me into her embrace as well. “My precious, precious angel. I…”

“… Oh,” Ares blurts innocently, neutralizing the rain of tears which suddenly colors my house.

“Right! And you—um, pardon, who are you again?” my mother—the famed dancer Silvia Bragi, looks at him. She exchanges glances with the Nordions who are just as equally awkward as she is, but Ares bows, respectfully weaving my mother into a handshake.

“I’m Ares.”

“… A-and he is my boyfriend,” I murmur, burying my face over my mother’s shoulder.


End file.
